


We Are Not Poets

by followyourenergy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Astrophysicist Castiel (Supernatural), Bisexual Castiel (Supernatural), Bisexual Dean Winchester, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Engineer Dean, Everyone Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Everyone Thinks They're Together, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Living Together, M/M, School Reunion, Stanford University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-07 11:38:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 44,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12232062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/followyourenergy/pseuds/followyourenergy
Summary: Dean Winchester was happy to leave the pain of high school behind and move to California to be with his best friend, Cas Novak.  Ten years later, the past is dredged up again when he receives an invitation to his high school reunion.  He's reluctant to attend because, while he's been successful in many areas of his life, he's yet to settle down with a romantic partner.  Cas offers to attend with him, and after they are mistaken for a couple multiple times, suggests that they could pretend to be a couple for the reunion.  Dean is only too happy to agree.  During their week in their hometown, a series of events pushes both Dean and Cas to closely examine the feelings they've pushed aside for years.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DropsOfStars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DropsOfStars/gifts).



The nondescript white envelope, less than an ounce, feels like a metric ton in Dean Winchester’s hand as he drags his feet back into the Arts and Crafts-style house he shares with his roommate/best friend, Cas Novak.  Cas isn’t home yet, of course, so Dean suffers alone through the angst he feels at the unsolicited intrusion into his life.  He’s still staring at the accursed fiend when Cas arrives home, dropping his things by the door and groaning as he finally loosens the tie that feels like a noose.  

“Sweet freedom,” he mutters as he shoves his shoes aside.  Cas hates Mondays. His usual Mondays mean multiple meetings with passionless bureaucrats, a hiatus from his beloved research, and suits and ties.  Ugh, the suits and ties are so stifling and mean nothing, considering he thinks and does the same things whether he’s wearing a suit or jeans or just his underwear.  But he promised his boss he’d play nice, and he likes his boss.  He doesn’t actually mind the suits all that much, although they’re ridiculous attire for the summer, but he’s convinced the damn ties will kill him someday.  He hated this Monday even more than most because of the asinine annual meeting he sat through for hours upon pointless hours with people blathering on instead of getting to the damn point.  He hangs his suit jacket onto a hook in the entryway and meanders from the foyer into the living room and to a sullen Dean, who’s holding a piece of mail in his left hand and a glass of vodka in the other.  Cas moves to their liquor cabinet, pulls out the Kahlua, and pours an ounce into the glass Dean’s clutching.  “What are we looking at and who do we have to kill?” he intones deeply as he sits in his usual spot next to his friend and pulls the rocks glass away from Dean, swirling it around and taking a sip before he reaches across Dean’s body to return it to his chilled hand.

“The vodka wasn’t enough?” Dean asks, turning to face his friend with a hint of a smile ghosting on his lips.  Dean notices that the tips of his hair are orange and yellow today.  He often dyes the tips, but probably chose the obnoxiously bright, flame-like colors just to piss off the stodgier administrators at their annual meeting today.  Cas was texting him throughout, bitching about it, and Dean was helpfully sending him dirty jokes.

Cas shrugs and replies, “Given your thousand yard stare, I figured we needed more.  Besides,” Cas says, slipping into a Russian accent that never fails to make Dean smile, “Black Russian is better, no?”

Dean does, indeed, smile and closes his eyes as he leans back against Cas’ outstretched arm and tosses the envelope into Cas’ lap.  He thinks, as he often does, that Cas is a gift from Heaven, a gift he’s never quite convinced himself he deserves but, like Linus and his blanket, will never give up.  Cas never asks whether he can help; after all their time together, he knows better than Dean when Dean needs support and when he needs space.  Tonight, Cas’ message is clear – with the shared beverage, with his body a little closer, with his use of the word “we” instead of “you” – this is a problem they will tackle together.  

“You’re invited!” Cas reads the front of the envelope, the phrase inked in red and gold, with the fake enthusiasm of an infomercial host.  He slides his index finger under the envelope flap; it rips raggedly as he takes little care to open it.  He pulls out the card and reads silently, muttering “Oh, dear God” as he tosses it to the coffee table.  

“Is it what I think it is?” Dean asks, eyes still closed but face now turned into Cas’ shoulder, muffling his words.  

Cas turns his head and speaks into Dean’s sandy brown hair.  “Do you think it’s the date for your execution or an invitation to your high school reunion?”

“Same thing,” Dean mutters, and Cas chuckles as he grabs the wet glass and takes another sip.  Dean sits up and copies his movements, although his sip is more like a gulp.  They sit quietly for a while, trading the glass back and forth and kicking their feet onto the coffee table.  

“Are you going?” Cas asks finally.  

Dean rolls his head to the side again and looks at his friend.  “Seriously?”

“It’s been ten years, Dean,” Cas says.  “A lot can change in ten years.”

“Not with those people,” Dean replies.  He knows he’s pouting and he can’t be bothered to school his face to something more contrived.  “I haven’t changed.”

Cas clinks the ice around in their glass before standing to refill it.  “You didn’t need to change, not in the ways that matter,” Cas points out sincerely, “although you have.”  He stirs the drink with a swizzle stick and places it on a coaster on the table before settling back on the couch.   Dean doesn’t say anything, because he knows Cas isn’t finished speaking.  “You moved away, you experienced new people, places, and things, you have developed yourself into a very talented engineer, and, most importantly, you feel confident about yourself and your worth.  You were never the worthless person they tried to make you feel like you were, Dean.  You just didn’t believe that then.”  

Dean’s face flushes.  He does this a lot around Cas.  “You know, you can get pretty damn sappy for such a serious guy.”

“Well, I have this weakness.  I like you,” he smiles.  

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean says, face running even hotter, “although I have no idea why.”

“Well, for starters…”

“Nope, you’ve actually already told me five hundred times, and it’s embarrassing,” Dean gripes as he covers Cas’ mouth.  Five hundred times may be an exaggeration, although over the twelve years they’ve known each other, Dean’s not sure whether it really is.  Cas does tell him a lot.  Tiny crinkles gather around Cas’ eyes, and Dean knows he’s smiling underneath his hand.  Dean can’t help but shake his head and smile back.  He then realizes he’s still holding his hand over Cas’ mouth, and drops his hand slowly.  “Sorry,” he says.

Once Dean has released his mouth, Cas says, “I don’t know if I really believe in closure, but perhaps it would help to see these people again.  You’ve grown so much, Dean, and this may help you put those old fears and insecurities and bad memories behind you.” He picks up their drink and sips the liquid around the ice, then allows a partially-melted ice cube to slide into his mouth.  He plays with it, maneuvering it around his closed mouth with his tongue, and waits for Dean’s response.  When Dean just watches the movements of his mouth and cheeks and says nothing, Cas tucks the ice in a cheek and says, “I’ll go with you.”

The sudden declaration after a moment of aroused fascination at watching Cas suck on the ice in his mouth (which must be melting, as Dean surely would be if he had any part of him in Cas’ mouth) snaps Dean out of his blissed-out, loose-limbed stupor.  “You’d go?”

“Of course,” Cas replies, giving Dean the you’re being ridiculous look he’s kind of used to from his best friend.  “I want to support you.  It would also be a good opportunity to visit your mother and some of our friends, and maybe Sam and Sarah will come down to visit.”

“Maybe,” he says.

“Well, think about it,” Cas shrugs.  “Come on, let’s order in.  I don’t feel like cooking tonight.”

Dean thinks about it for several days.  Their high school was not the friendliest, most tolerant place, and Dean doubts that’s changed a whole lot.  But part of him does want to see if things have changed, to see how everyone turned out, and he does have a few friends that he’d like to see, friends he hasn’t seen since he moved out the day after graduation to join Cas, already in college several states away at Stanford.  He missed out on all the Project Graduation shit and the parties and whatnot, but by that point he just needed to get away.  Cas had a free ride for his post-secondary education because of his gigantic, brilliant brain, and he had a stipend on top of that because the university wanted him so badly, so he rented an apartment just off campus after his first year at the university and made sure it had two bedrooms so Dean could join him.  Cas had even encouraged him to apply to Stanford, since he’d probably get a boatload of need-based financial aid because of his dad’s disability and mom’s need to stay home with him, and he did, surprising himself most of all when he not only was accepted, but got enough aid so that between Dean and Cas they could make it work.  During Dean’s senior year of high school, even before Dean was accepted and even while Cas was still in the dorms, they talked about getting a place together out in California, and it was honestly one of the few things – sometimes the only thing – that kept Dean going through all the crap of his senior year without Cas by his side.

“Any decision yet?” Cas asks a few days after the invitation arrived.  They’re on the deck looking out into the night sky, remnants of pizza in a box at their feet and the smell of citronella floating around them in a weak attempt to avoid being eaten alive by the mosquitos.  

“I don’t know,” Dean answers, conflict crossing his chiseled face, softened by sadness.  Cas glances at him and wonders, not for the first time, how anyone could ever be so cruel and capricious as to make Dean doubt himself in this way.  Yes, he allows, it was high school and no one was fully mature just yet, as humans’ grey matter is still not fully developed until age 25 or so.  Still, Dean’s light is so bright, so pure, that Cas struggles to understand how everyone in its path isn’t mesmerized by its goodness, like Cas has been.  “I mean, yeah, I’ve done a lot of good things and all, I’m all grown up and I hold down a job and pay my bills, but when I show up I’ll still be that loser who’s someone’s dirty little secret or punching bag, who can’t have anyone really love him, who still doesn’t even have a boyfriend or girlfriend ten years later when half of them are probably married with kids.  It’ll be like nothing ever changed, and knowing me, I’m gonna just roll over and allow myself to be kicked.”  Dean swigs his beer and Cas wants to kill those stupid little teenagers who made Dean’s life miserable, even if they have grown up and become better people or whatever.  But, he decides, he cannot be helpful to Dean if he’s feeling murderous, so he forces himself to calm down.  


“There is no shame in being single, Dean,” Cas says in an attempt to reassure him.  “You simply haven’t found anyone you want to share your life with.”

Cas feels Dean’s shrug next to him, their shoulders brushing.  Dean stays quiet and doesn’t look at Cas.

“You’ve been hurt, and I know it is difficult for you to open up and trust someone.  Perhaps seeing and maybe even confronting some of those who have hurt you will help.”  Cas links his arm with Dean’s and squeezes his arm in a sort of hug.  “You deserve someone who loves you openly, who respects you and defends you and supports you.”  His voice, warm with an edge of righteous anger at those who had hurt Dean over the years, strikes Dean’s heart and makes his chest constrict.

“You’ll go with me?” he asks cautiously, hoping his voice will not betray his emotion, or that at least Cas will think the emotion comes from the pain of the past rather than the ache and longing of the present.

“Of course,” Cas answers simply.  Because of course he will.  He will do anything Dean asks of him, and they both know it.

“Okay,” Dean nods.


	2. Chapter 2

_High school_

Castiel liked to keep his head down and his nose out of other people's business.  He was a studious, serious person, and he had far better things to do than to get embroiled in the petty quibbles of children.  His theoretical work on black holes was progressing as well as it could, given his living situation and his resources.  He was already taking science courses at the local university as a high school senior and had been since he was a sophomore, his fascination and aptitude with all things cosmic recognized at an early age by both his father (whose talents lay in the same area) and his teachers, who could never keep up with the intelligence of the quiet, blue-eyed boy who never stepped out of line... until late October, that is.

He'd heard of Dean Winchester.  He was a year behind Castiel in school, a junior, and he was usually found either in the science wing or in the vocational department of the school, in auto shop.  Some of his former science teachers, with whom he still spoke, mentioned him occasionally and even suggested they might make good friends.  Apparently he had a real aptitude for physics, but he hadn't met him because although Dean was taking science classes a year ahead, Castiel was taking them ahead as well, and his science classes were at the university.  He had seen him a few times in the halls, he was pretty sure, and if he was the same boy Castiel was thinking of, he was cute - not that Castiel had time for such distraction, and not that the boy would notice him anyway.

It was on one of his early release days, during the lunch hour, that he came across a crowd in the parking lot.  Castiel didn't care for crowds, so he tried to avoid this one, but someone's jeering followed by a pained cry drew him in.  He recognized the jeering students.  One was a boy named Michael, a senior.  He'd gone to elementary school with him.  The others he thought were a boy named Aaron and another named Roman - Richard or Rick or Dick or something -  both juniors.  They were all on the football team (or maybe it was the soccer team, Castiel couldn't remember and couldn't care less), and they were hovering over some student, menacing and provoking.  He heard taunts of "fag" and "homo" and accusations of trying to "turn others queer," which was impossible and patently ridiculous and Castiel thought that if they'd paid attention during their human sexuality unit they would know that.  The students at his school could be so intolerant sometimes and while others' opinions of him didn't matter to him, he didn't want anyone to be hurt by others' intolerance.  He approached the crowd, anger festering in his gut as he drew closer and saw blood and a lack of assistance from anyone surrounding this poor person.  Between students, he saw a bloodied figure on the ground, one who looked suspiciously like the boy he thought was Dean.  He pushed his way through the horde and stood in front of the boy's assaulters. 

“Knock it off,” he growled.

Roman (Dick, Castiel settled on) said, "Move, Castiel.  This one needs a lesson."

"In what?  Bigotry and hate?  I think he's learned it."

"Out of the way, Novak," Aaron barked as he tried to shove past him.

Castiel stood his ground.  "I don't think so."

"What are you gonna do about it?" Aaron challenged him.  He stepped forward.

"I'm going to ask you to leave him alone and never touch him or speak to him again," Castiel responded.  His hands rested loosely at his sides, prepared for the inevitable pushback he'd get from the boys in front of him whose egos were too fragile to just walk away.  When Aaron raised his fist and yelled something about Castiel being "a fucking fag," Castiel easily deflected the blow Aaron lobbed at him.  His love and innate understanding of physics had helped Castiel earn advanced belts in karate and hapkido, and his skills, while rarely used outside of tournaments, were helping him now.  He quickly dispatched the three boys, sending them sailing to the ground in fluid swoops.  No one moved to help, but no one moved to further attack him or Dean, either, which was promising. 

"Get out of here and leave him be," Castiel rumbled, his voice intimidating, his eyes frightening in their icy fire.  He pushed off the ground, leaving them to gather themselves up and skitter away.  Without the fight, there was nothing more to see, so the teens wandered off to get their lunches and gossip before the next bell.  Castiel offered a hand to the boy, who was now sitting up and pinching his nose to stop the blood.

"Here," Castiel said, pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket.  "It's clean, I promise."

"You're a teenager who carries a _handkerchief_ in his pocket? Nerd," the boy said as he took the cloth from Castiel's hand.  It took him a moment, but from the boy's smile and the warmth in his green eyes, the "nerd" comment was supposed to be some sort of gentle teasing (and probably a deflection of his embarrassment at needing such assistance).

"Well, one never knows when one will encounter a teenager who got punched in the nose," Castiel responded in kind, hoping his own smile was teasing and not awkward.  The boy laughed and then grimaced.

"Don't make me laugh, dude," the boy said.  His voice sounded cartoonish from the way he was holding his nose to stave the bleeding.  This boy made Castiel feel bold and rebellious and playful, so Castiel pinched his own nose shut and mocked him, making the boy laugh harder.  The boy introduced himself as Dean, and Castiel was about to introduce himself when Dean surprised him.  "Dude, I know who you are.  You're, like, the smartest kid in school.  IQ like Edison or something."

Castiel blushed but said, "Well, IQ scores are neither indicative of a person's true knowledge nor the measure of the quality of a person."

Dean shrugged.  "Yeah, well, you're still pretty fuckin' smart, from what I heard."

"Yes, I am pretty fucking smart," Castiel replied wryly, the profanity feeling foreign and liberating on his tongue, "and I have heard the same about you."

"Yeah, well," Dean looked down at his feet, "you've probably heard a lot about me."

"Yes," Castiel confirmed.  "I have heard that you are intelligent but that you downplay your intelligence, that you don't make friends easily, and that you are very loyal to the friends you do have."  Dean smiled despite the pain in his face.  "I've also heard that you are gay and its variations - a fag, a queer, a homo - and that you somehow have the magical ability to change the sexual orientations of others.  I've heard that you also like girls, but that you dating girls is some sort of cover for your supposed homosexuality."  Dean frowned and turned away.  Castiel laid a hand on his arm, just below his shoulder, and said, "I tend to believe the parts about your intelligence and your loyalty.  I put no stock in rumors of your sexuality one way or another.  Frankly, I am utterly indifferent to sexual orientation."

Dean caught Castiel's eyes in his own, eyes whose wrathful ice of minutes ago had melted into calm blue waters, and smiled his first genuine smile since the middle of sophomore year.

 


	3. Chapter 3

"Your mother is very excited to hear we are visiting," Cas reports to Dean as he tidies the table after their morning meal.  Dean stops scraping the broiler pan they'd left to soak overnight and turns to Cas. 

"Why does my mother talk to you more than me?" he asks without a hint of malice.  He's thrilled that they have a good relationship. His mom enjoys mothering Cas, whose own mother passed away when he was two.

"Because she likes me best," he jokes as he wanders over and hip-checks Dean before dipping his hands into the sink to retrieve the dirty dishes from breakfast.  He opens the dishwasher and begins loading it.  "And maybe because I call her."

"Kiss-up," Dean teases. "So hey, I mapped out our route, and..."

Cas groans. "Really, Dean?  We can't just fly?" he asks.  He already knows the answer.

"No way.  You know I don't like those death tubes," Dean whines. 

"Two hours versus twenty-seven hours may be worth facing your fears, Dean."

"No way.  We both have plenty of vacation time to use, so the extra days aren't a problem, and besides, flights will be stupid expensive since it's only three weeks away.  We have this argument every time, and I always win, so give it up, Novak."

He knows this.  He already took the extra days off.  Still, he argues, "Because I let you win.  We can afford the flights.  Maybe I'll fly there.  You can drive."

"Dude, not cool!  I thought you loved our road trips!"

"I do, Dean." Cas turns and plays absently with Dean's sleeve.  His thumb brushes Dean's skin. "But, do you think you'll be up for driving on the way back, after the reunion? That's my concern."

"I'll be fine," he reassures his friend. "I'd rather do that than fly any day.  Come on, please?"  Dean gives Cas his best pleading eyes and pouty mouth.  _This is the reason he always wins the argument_ , Cas thinks. 

"Fine," Cas sighs dramatically as Dean grins in victory.  He grabs his phone and his messenger bag. "Goodbye, you self-satisfied pain in the ass," he scowls affectionately.  He loops an arm around Dean's neck and hooks him into a hug, then makes a kissing sound directly into his ear, making Dean cringe. "Love you.  Kick some ass at your meeting today.  Don't let Crowley run over you."

"I've always got an eye on him," Dean assures him.  "Love you.  Go discover a new planet or something."

"I'll try," Cas says before closing the door behind him.

Dean leans against the butcher-block island counter and thinks.  He and Cas have been exchanging affectionate touches and "love you"s for a while now, since Dean's dad died a couple of years ago.  His death, although he hadn't been well for some time, was sudden, and Dean was across the country when it happened.  He took it hard.  The habit between the friends was born out of a grief-filled night when Dean bemoaned all of the things he never said or did with his father, all of the lost opportunities to show he loved him.  He vowed at that moment that he would always show the important people in his life that he cared about them, that he loved them.  He texted them, called them, showed up at their homes, and told every one of them he loved them.  Although it startled most of them - Dean didn't get very wordy with his feelings - they appreciated it and confirmed their love for him in return.  It got Dean through and, like most habits, petered out when the need that drove it lost its urgency.  It never petered out with Cas, though.  If anything, it got stronger, although they never needed words to express their closeness.  Still, he never has told Cas exactly what he means when he says "I love you."  He never tells him, "I'm in love with you," even though it is a truer statement. 

Ever since the day Cas intervened when Aaron, Dick and Michael were beating the snot out of him (little punks caught him by surprise), they've been inseparable.  Dean often jokes that they can't stop being friends because Cas knows way too much about him.  Sometimes Cas laughs, and sometimes he gets all sincere and says shit like, "I would never betray the trust you've given me, Dean," and either response makes Dean's heart light with joy and heavy with unrequited desire.  He is grateful for their friendship, grateful for his friend's seriousness and sincerity and rebelliousness and pure, unfettered devotion.  He's humbly grateful that he gets to be the closest person to Cas, selfishly grateful that Cas hasn't had a date in several years (and Dean has no idea how that's possible), and guiltily grateful that Cas has no qualms about walking around the house in just his boxers, because damn, the astrophysicist nerd has a _smokin'_ body, sculpted from martial arts and running and outstanding genes. 

His buzzing phone breaks him out of his daydream.

_From Cas 8:54am: Good news.  I've already discovered that new planet we talked about so my schedule cleared up, although I won't be home until very late tonight. Well, tomorrow morning. Free for lunch?_

Hot damn, yeah he is.

_From Dean 8:57am:  Yeah, I suppose I can make time for you.  1:00?  Meet at Izzy's?  And why are you getting home late?  Hot date?_

It's research.  It's always research.  He hopes it's research.

_From Cas 9:01am:  Hot date keeping me out late?  Since when?  I have some research I need to work on tonight.  I do have a hot date at 1:00, though. ;)_

Effervescence bubbles from his chest and turns the corners of his mouth up.  _I wish it was a date_ , Dean thinks as he answers,

_From Dean 9:03am:  Damn right you do.  Hottest bachelor on the market.  See you then._

_From Cas 9:04am:  Indeed. Lucky me.  Order for me if you get there first.  See you._

Dean sighs as he pockets his phone and heads out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Three weeks goes by way too fast, and the bubble of avoidance finally breaks.

“Get out of bed, sloth,” Dean rasps none-too-softly, directly in Cas’ ear, at ass o’clock in the morning on a Wednesday.  “We gotta get on the road.”

Cas moves his foot back enough to kick Dean, who is lying next to him.  

“Dude, you almost caught the family jewels, man,” Dean grunts.

“Family jewels?  Fitting.  For all you use them, they may as well be in a glass case for tourists to photograph but not touch.”  Cas smirks into the mattress as Dean’s pillow strikes his back.

“Those are the royal jewels, dick, not the family jewels.  Get your ass out of my bed.” 

“Our bed.”

“It’s still mine.”

“It’s ours because you broke mine and haven’t replaced it.”

“You have plenty of money to replace it yourself.”

“That’s not the point.”

It really isn’t the point.  Yes, Dean had broken Cas’ bed after an evening of excited, over-the-top flipping and jumping on Cas’ bed when he got the job at Google a few months ago, and so of course Dean offered to share his bed with Cas until he got a new one.  Dean makes enough money to pay for a new bed.  Cas makes enough money to pay for a new bed.  Neither wants to buy a new bed.  It isn’t about the money.

“Are you gonna bitch at me all day about the bed or what?  Get your ass moving.”  Dean gives his hip a shove before getting out of bed.  He shuts off the air conditioning unit and dresses in the dark while Cas groans his displeasure at the early hour and rubs his face into the mattress to wipe the burning of too little sleep from his eyes.  Dean watches and listens to Cas and his traitorous brain creates a story of a very different scenario in which his best friend is moaning and writhing in their bed.  It’s suddenly become more difficult to draw his jeans over his body.  

“You owe me good coffee, since we don’t have time to make any,” Cas mutters as he draws up his knees and stretches like a cat, his back muscles moving sinuously in the dim blue light of the digital clock, and Dean has to get out of here before his situation becomes too obvious even in the dark.  He can’t help but smile, though, because too-early-in-the-morning Cas is one of his favorite kinds of Cas.  

“You got it, Sunshine,” he smirks as he throws Cas his favorite traveling shirt, a heather blue tee he enjoys for the comfort of it and Dean enjoys for the fact that it shrank in the wash and it’s tattered around the collar, which would make it really easy to rip off him should they find themselves stranded on a deserted highway or something.  _Fuckin’ brain, damn it. ___

__“You are one lucky bastard, Rigel, because I wouldn’t endure this trip for anyone else,” Cas utters, grumpily sincere, and Dean’s heart leaps like a damn rabbit at the nickname.  It’s nerdy and no one else would understand it, but they do and that’s all that matters.  “Now get out so I can get dressed.”_ _

__Dean laughs as he makes his way to the door.  Cas, more awake now, watches Dean’s strong, athletic frame as he moves through their shared space and tries not to sigh like he’s lovesick.  Dean flips on the overhead light as he goes, assaulting the room in 240 watts of luminescence._ _

__“I fucking hate you!” Cas yells, squinting against the sudden brightness as Dean skitters out the door cackling._ _

__Other than Dean’s excessive anxiety about the reunion and his lack of a mate, the trip goes as it usually does, which is to say that three things happen._ _

__One, they bicker.  A lot._ _

____“Dean, do we have to listen to the same six tapes from 1976?”_ _

___“Why does your coffee cost five dollars?  It’s the same brown water I can get at the gas station for a buck!”_ _ _

___“Why have you not installed air conditioning?  Are you a fan of sweltering?”_ _ _

___“Burgers and beef jerky are perfectly acceptable road trip food, Cas.  Yogurt and cheese sticks and friggin’ granola are not.”_ ____

____Two, Cas gets sick and Dean feels guilty._ _ _ _

____“You never fuckin’ remind me about your migraines, Cas,” Dean grumbles.  Cas insists they aren’t migraines (“There’s a difference, Dean,” he’s tried to explain) but they still make Cas sick if the conditions are right – and several hours in a hot car usually does it.  Dean quickly pulls over and parks in an area where trees and fields thickly populate the sides of the road.  After forcing him to take some medication, Dean digs out an ice pack Cas brought in the cooler where he keeps his stupid string cheese and yogurt.  He pulls Cas into his arms and places the pack on Cas’ neck, holding it with one hand while he encircles his waist with the other.  “You need to remind me of these things so I don’t throw a shit fit about flying.”_ _ _ _

____Cas simply shrugs and hides his face in Dean’s chest._ _ _ _

____“We both gotta do a better job of remembering, okay?”  Dean rubs his cheek in Cas’ soft, mostly dark hair with the now-blue tips and sways him gently, cradling his head.  He hates seeing him like this, but he loves holding him like this._ _ _ _

____“I know,” Cas says into Dean’s chest.  He inhales the scent of cheap deodorant, feels the dusty dampness of road travel through the thin t-shirt, and itches to mouth at the heated skin beneath, despite the screaming, nauseous thrumming in his skull._ _ _ _

____Three, Dean and Cas are mistaken for a couple.  Often._ _ _ _

____It happens at the gas station:_ _ _ _

____“You two remind me of my husband and me when we were young!”_ _ _ _

____It happens at the hotels, because they don’t bother to make reservations ahead, not knowing where they’d stop for the night.  At the first one, when Cas is still feeling the aftereffects of his headache and Dean hovers over him it’s:_ _ _ _

____“Good evening, gentlemen.  We have a king suite available.  I trust that will be acceptable?”_ _ _ _

____At the second one, when Cas is checking them in and Dean is giggling and whispering something in Cas’ ear about the strangely-coiffed woman checking in next to them, it’s:_ _ _ _

____“Is it Novak-Winchester, hyphenated?”_ _ _ _

____Cas doesn’t bother to correct the chipper desk clerk who looks at him with too much familiarity.  They are assigned a room with two queens because it’s all they have left.  They sleep apart because they’re supposed to do that, being just friends and all, and it’s strange._ _ _ _

____It happens at restaurants:_ _ _ _

____At one:  “One pie, two forks?” the waitress says with a wink._ _ _ _

____At another:  A waiter flirts with an oblivious Cas and backs off as soon as Dean returns from the bathroom and glares at him._ _ _ _

____And another:  A table of teen girls coos and giggles and points at them when Cas leans into Dean’s space and steals fries off his plate._ _ _ _

____They get into town around 1:00pm and stop for lunch before heading to Dean’s mother’s house, since she won’t be home from work until sometime after 3:00.  They eat at one of the local dives, a place Jo Harvelle’s mother owns called Harvelle’s Roadhouse.  She used to have a place by the same name in Nebraska or somewhere, and reopened it when they moved here when Jo was in the fifth grade.  Jo, a friend of Sam’s and a frequent visitor to the Winchester home, approaches their table and her jaw drops in surprise._ _ _ _

____“Dean!  Cas!  I haven’t seen you two in forever!” she gushes, leaning in to give them hugs.  “Dean, you need to visit more often, we miss you around here.  Your mom is so proud, always talking about her Stanford kid who works at Google.”  She ruffles his hair affectionately.  “And Cas, look at you, Mr. Big Shot Science Guy!  I watch you all the time.  Love the hair!”_ _ _ _

____“Thank you,” Cas says with a serious, humble smile as Dean watches fondly.  Cas is a bit famous, and it’s partly Dean’s fault.  When Cas was a doctoral candidate and teaching some lower level classes, he did some videos demonstrating various concepts and labs to his students.  They were supposed to be available only to those students, but Dean saw them and loved them, both because of Cas’ exuberant yet down-to-earth way of explaining complex concepts (he always got so cute when he was passionate) and because his friend was just damn gorgeous with his wild hair, galaxy eyes and expressive hands.  He shared them with their friend Charlie, who posted them to the world with titles such as “The Sun Ain’t as Hot as This Hottie!” that embarrassed Cas to no end.  He became well-known pretty quickly and, at Dean’s urging, made a few videos for the general public, sort of a Bill Nye for adults.  He was asked to do a TV series about space, and he caved after Dean told him that if Neil deGrasse Tyson could do it, so could he.  His show was just renewed for another six episodes and has a companion Internet series._ _ _ _

____“It’s just so good to see you two!” Jo continues.  “I’ve seen some of your classmates get married and divorced since you guys graduated, and yet here you guys are like no time’s passed at all.  It’s really nice to see you two looking as happy together as you always have!  Are you married yet?”_ _ _ _

____Dean chokes on air and he can feel the blush creep across his face.   Cas simply tilts his head and gives her an appraising look before saying, “No, we aren’t married.”  He states it as fact, but his eyes twinkle with amusement._ _ _ _

____“Gosh, what are you guys waiting for?  Put a ring on it!”  She gives them a grin and then asks them if they want anything to drink.  Dean orders Dr. Pepper.  Cas sticks with water.  Dean watches her pour the drinks and analyzes what he did to make Jo think they were married or almost so and whether Cas saw whatever she saw.  In his periphery, he can see the slight upturn of Cas’ mouth as he watches Dean’s silent freak-out.  Jo returns with the beverages and a basket of popcorn and takes their orders before flitting away._ _ _ _

____“Perhaps there’s a solution to your anxiety that we should consider,” Cas muses as he sips Dean’s soda.  He never orders any for himself because he finds it too filling and he only wants a taste, so he steals Dean’s.  Dean never flinches._ _ _ _

____“What’s that?” Dean asks, his cheeks puffed with popcorn.  He does this so often that Cas doesn’t notice anymore._ _ _ _

____“Have you ever noticed that strangers tend to think we are…” he rolls his hand around in the air as he tries to come up with a suitable word, “together?  As a couple, I mean.  And now Jo, someone who knows us, has assumed this as well?”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah,” Dean mumbles.  He can’t bear to look at Cas, knowing that it’s _his _face that convinces everyone.___ _ _ _

______Cas is grateful that Dean doesn’t seem to notice his nervousness as he says, “Well, we could just let them think that at your reunion.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Dean stares.  Cas stares back, willing his nervous energy to release itself through his tapping fingers below the table rather than on his face._ _ _ _ _ _

______Dean says the only thing his brain can think of.  “Uh…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Cas rushes in to fill the space.  “It’s only an offer,” he explains.  “We can let them think that and if they ask, we can either correct them or… not.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Um.  Right.  Um…”  And now Dean is thinking very hard indeed.  He thinks back to all the romcoms he was ever forced (and not forced) to sit through, where two people pretended to be a couple and ended up falling in love._ _ _ _ _ _

______“We don’t have to,” Cas says quickly, uncharacteristically stumbling over his words.  “We can…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“What if we just for real pretend?” Dean asks, and only after the words are out does he realize they made no sense.  He huffs.  “I mean, what if we, like, uh, like _actively _tell… people.”  Cas told him once that Halley’s Comet wouldn’t be near Earth again until they were in their 70s, but he’s so embarrassed he _actively _wishes it would veer off course and strike him dead right now. He traces the rings of water his glass left on the table._____ _ _ _ _ _

__________“You want to tell people we are a couple.”  Cas raises his eyebrows to seek confirmation.  Dean nods._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Okay, that’s fine with me, although I’m not much of an actor,” Cas says, and Dean’s shoulders sag as they release the tension built up in his muscles.  “But from my observations of others and movies you’ve made me watch with you…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I didn’t make you watch them!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“…I feel the need to warn you it may involve some sort of intimate physical demonstration if we are to be believed.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Dean swallows the hysterical surge of want he feels at the mention of _intimate physical demonstration _with Cas.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Uh, yeah, no problem,” he says with false glibness.  “Physical affection.  Yeah.  It’ll be fine.  It won’t affect us or anything.” _Liar. _“We’re bros, right?”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Cas furrows his brows and squints.  “Dean, I am not, nor will I ever be, your ‘bro.’” And Dean can’t help it; he breaks into breath-stealing laughter at the absurdity of it all – at his friend’s seriousness and his kindness and sacrifice for Dean’s benefit, at the fact that ten years have passed since the drama of high school, at the fact that for a week, he gets to pretend to be Cas’ partner, which may involve intimate physical demonstration, and holy hell.  Cas stares at him in bewilderment for a moment, but Dean’s laughter is contagious and he can’t help but break into the same sort of laughter right along with him, not quite thinking his statement merits that much mirth but happy to see his friend’s body thrown into giddiness all the same.  He tries not to think of that same body thrown into a different sort of ecstasy._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________The other patrons are looking at the couple in the corner of the restaurant who are clearly having a good time together, and most of them are smiling, some even laughing along.  Cas spots Jo walking toward them with a tray and rubs Dean’s back to try to get him to calm down and breathe before their food arrives.  Dean slows his breath to a high-pitched wheezing and a few stilted chuckles and wipes at his eyes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Okay, lovebirds, keep it down over here,” Jo jokes as she glances at Cas’ hand on Dean’s back and sets their food down.  Dean smiles at Jo and then at Cas as his friend removes his hand from Dean’s body.  Dean supposes at some point they should talk about what _intimate physical demonstration _will mean for them and when they should start the ruse but for now, he smiles at Cas and tucks into his meal.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	5. Chapter 5

"Boys!" Mary Winchester exclaims as the pair exits the Impala. They haven't visited her at her home since the Christmas before last, the one a few months after John Winchester's death. They alternate holidays between Dean's and Cas' families, since Cas' dad and new wife and his sister and brother-in-law now live in Oregon and the men are close to both families and think it's only fair. It never occurs to them to visit their families separately. Last Thanksgiving they convinced Mary to come out to see them and they took her on a cruise to Mexico.

"Hey Mom," Dean says as he swings her around in a hug. "Missed you." He kisses her on the cheek and sets her feet gently to the ground. He wipes the tears from her face as she apologizes for crying and tells him how much she missed him.

"Hi Mary," Cas says warmly to the woman who, despite his age when he met her, has been like a mother to him.

"Castiel!" she cries, a fresh stream of tears trickling from her eyes. He embraces her tightly.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're here. You two look so happy and healthy," she exclaims, her smile spreading wide across her lovely face, remarkably unaffected by age. "California agrees with you. Oh, come in, you're probably exhausted."

Mary brings them inside, chattering about their trip. They tell her about the funny things they saw, about their squabbles, about the headache that sidetracked them for a couple of hours ("It wasn't a migraine, Dean"), and about seeing Jo. They don't mention anything about pretending to be boyfriends. Sam and Sarah arrive around 7:00, and Dean helps his mom prepare a late dinner. The engaged couple lives in New York, where Sarah runs her family's art gallery and Sam is finishing law school at Columbia. The brothers miss being closer to each other, but neither is willing to move - Sam wanting to stay for Sarah's sake, and Dean wanting to stay for Cas' sake, though he tries not to think of how weird that is considering they're not a couple (but now that they own a house together, well, it just doesn't make sense to move). They make the best of it with video chat and Sam's visits to California. Dinner conversation is pleasant and mostly about their jobs and friends back home.

The four visitors are travel-worn and decide to get to bed early. Sam and Sarah retire to "their" room (Sam's old room), and Dean and Cas head upstairs to split off into Dean's old room and the guest bedroom, respectively. They are both surprised by what they find.

"Uh, Mom? What happened in here?" Dean asks as he sees his room. Gone are the band posters and old, mismatched furniture and twin-size bed, replaced with a fresh coat of sage green paint, various prints and photos tastefully framed and arranged, and matching cherry-toned furniture, including a queen-size sleigh bed. Cas pokes his head around Dean's shoulder to see what has him so flustered.

"Oh, do you like it?" Mary asks hopefully.

"I do, I just... where's my old bed?"

"In storage. Now that your father's gone I have extra time on my hands, and I thought it was time to make proper guest bedrooms for you and Cas and your brother and Sarah when you come to stay with me."

"Three guest bedrooms, Mom? A bit much, isn't it?"

"Actually, I just saw the former guest bedroom is now an art studio, apparently," Cas chimes in, giving Mary a warm smile. "That is a surprise."

"Oh, yes! Well, I used to love painting and decided it was time to get back to it. And, like Dean said, I don't really need three guest bedrooms. Unless, of course, I get some grandkids someday..." she teases and smiles at Cas and then Dean, who looks at her in stunned silence. She doesn't seem to think it's peculiar. "And of course, you boys are grown up now and, well, twin beds really don't cut it anymore, do they?" She beams at the two of them.

"Wait, so one of us has to sleep on the couch?" Dean asks, finally finding his voice.

His mother scrunches her face in confusion before understanding dawns on her face, and she laughs brightly and faces Dean, placing her hands on his shoulders. "Oh honey, I'm not naïve. You two are grown men sharing a life together! You can certainly share a bed here." Cas makes a face at Dean above Mary's head as Dean stares at her, still stunned and not quite comprehending what she is saying.

"It's lovely, Mary," Cas assures her as he rests a hand on her shoulder blade, and a delighted grin spreads across her face as she thanks him.

"Sleep well, you two," she says cheerily as she kisses their cheeks and breezes away toward her own room. They walk slowly into the newly-appointed guest bedroom and close the door softly.

Mary's statement finally clicks into place for Dean. "Fuck, Cas, she thinks we sleep together!" Dean whisper-shouts as he paces the room. Cas sits placidly on the bed.

"Technically, we do," he points out.

"Not like _that_ and you know it!" Dean points his finger at Cas and continues, "She thinks we're a _couple_! _Us_!"

Cas folds his arms and speaks in a monotone. "Wow. How horrible for you."

Dean starts at his tone. Is he... hurt? "I didn't mean it like that, Cas. I just mean..."

Cas breathes deeply through his nose. It's his "I'm trying not to kill you" breathing he does sometimes. "Dean. You can either march into her room right now and tell her the truth, or you can allow the poor woman to fall asleep with a smile on her face, believing her son is in a happy, loving relationship, and explain everything tomorrow - our status and our ruse for the sake of your reunion - and all of us can deal with it when we are rested and less emotionally compromised. Decide what you want to do."

Dean stares at his best friend, who is rarely anything but composed, and sees something under the surface. "Why are you so pissed off?" Dean asks, skirting the decision Cas tasks him with for something more important.

Cas ignores the question and says, "Frankly, the fact that your mother thinks we are together is a good omen for the believability of our false relationship. She probably just thinks we are because we are close and share a home and neither of us has been with anyone else for some time. We also had to share a bed on the cruise."

Dean shifts uncomfortably. "And you haven't said anything that would make her think we're a couple?"

"Now why the hell would I do that?" Cas explodes, keeping his voice low so they aren't overheard. "God, Dean, don't be stupid. It doesn't suit you." He takes his toiletry kit from his suitcase and storms out of the room, leaving the door open behind him so he's not tempted to slam it shut, which would be infinitely more satisfying. He closes himself in the bathroom and turns on the shower, waiting until he's under the hot, pounding spray before allowing hurt, angry tears of frustration and longing to fall silently.

"Shit," Dean mutters to the empty room. "So it's me. Everyone can see right through me. Fuck." He changes into a t-shirt and boxers, then leans back on the bed and laments how he let his feelings for his best friend get this out of control.

When Cas returns to the room, a small lamp lights the way to their shared bed. Dean is asleep, or at least his eyes are closed. Cas hasn't decided if they should try to resolve this tonight or not. He slides into bed and turns off the light.

Dean feels Cas' presence next to him and how carefully he tries to keep space between them, and those few inches might as well be miles. He isn't sure why Cas seems to be upset. He would think Cas _wouldn't_ want Dean's family thinking they're together. It's one thing to fool a bunch of people they won't see again maybe ever, or at least not for a long time, but to fool the people closest to them is something else. Dean's freaked out about it because, well, he'd like it to be true and apparently that's shining through him like a floodlight. Maybe Cas is just sensitive to rejection in general, but that's not congruent with what Dean knows about him. He tries to put himself in Cas' shoes, imagines what it would be like if Cas lost his shit over them being a couple. It would hurt. Cas sighs heavily and Dean knows without looking that he's awake and staring at the ceiling. He reaches across the miles and finds Cas' fingers, grasping them lightly. Cas squeezes back. It's a good sign.

"I'm sorry, Cas," Dean blurts.

"I overreacted," Cas says, in the same monotone he used earlier, and Dean hates it.

"No, I overreacted, and I don't even know why." Well, that's a lie, but Cas doesn't need to know that. "I just... I don't want my mom to be upset and disappointed in me when she learns the truth, you know? It's not... I don't think being in a relationship with you... I mean, I don't think you'd be a bad boyfriend or something. To be honest, I have no idea why you're still single."

"Probably because everyone thinks we're a couple," Cas says, and Dean knows as Cas tickles his palm that Cas has a smirk a mile wide on his face and they're okay.

"You know," Dean says and his heart hates his mouth for saying it, "if you actually _corrected_ people's assumptions, your dating chances would improve exponentially."

Cas pretends to consider this, because of course he isn't considering it at all and hasn't for some time, before he says, "No. Something more intimate than my own fist would be nice, but I'm happy with my life, Dean."

Dean presses his eyes closed wistfully. _Sure, he's happy now, but what happens when Mr. or Mrs. Right sweeps him off his feet?_ He reverts to his usual defense mechanism, humor, and says, "Wow, didn't need that mental image, Cas," and he quickly realizes he _truly_ didn't need that image, because that is going to burn itself into his brain now and appear when he is being friendly with his own fist.

"Oh no," Cas says, certain that he's about to scar his best friend and deriving some secret glee out of it for his earlier hurt, "don't think about me coming home after a long night at work, stepping into the bathroom, stripping off my clothes, jerking off in the same shower you step your feet into mere hours later..."

"Cas, goddamnit!" Dean shouts and shoves him.

"Scarred you for life, have I?" Cas cackles and Dean lets him think that, because it's less dangerous than telling him exactly how much he likes that image.

Cas continues, "I promise I clean everything up well... just, maybe you want to double-check your bottle of shower gel before you grab it next time...."

"Mine, you fucker?"

Mary hears the laughter down the hall and smiles as she sets her book on her nightstand and turns off the light.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Dean wanders down the stairs and follows the sounds of laughing women to the living room. Several women, all with books beside them and glasses of orange juice Dean strongly suspects are mimosas in their hands, look up at him when he enters the room. He thinks he probably should’ve stayed in bed. Sam and Sarah are nowhere to be found.

“Good morning!” they all chirp – Ellen Harvelle, Tillie Rosen, Missouri Mosely, and a woman Dean doesn’t know. Mary sits in the middle of them.

“Sorry, honey, I should have told you! Our book club meets on Saturday mornings,” Mary explains. Dean nods and the women start asking him questions about his job at Google and life in California and why he’s in town. They tell him how much his mother talks about him and his brother and how proud she is of them. Dean is overwhelmed with the attention and grateful when his mother’s face lights up; he feels Cas’ sleepy presence beside him as Cas waves to the group.

“I don’t think you know everyone, Cas,” Mary says as she leans to point at each woman. “You know Ellen and Missouri, of course, and I think you know Tillie, and this is Linda Tran.”

“Hello Ellen, Tillie, Missouri,” he says as he nods, “and pleasure to meet you, Linda.” Cas never had difficulty making the transition to calling older adults by their first names. Dean still calls his old teachers and his friends’ parents Mrs. or Mr. So-and-So.

“Girls, this is Dean’s partner, Cas,” she says, glowing. She looks so damn happy about it and Dean wishes it was true, for both her sake and his. He briefly wonders why Ellen and Missouri, his mother’s closest friends who’ve known Dean and Cas for years, didn’t even flinch when his mother said that, but he feels Cas stop breathing next to him so he wraps his arm around his waist and pulls him closer in a side hug. Cas relaxes and nods at the group as Mary brags about him as if he were her son. The words she says feel wonderful, but the familiar feeling of Dean’s arm wrapped around him will always be better. Cas is a bit confused as to whether this gesture is supposed to trick the group into thinking they’re together or whether it just falls in line with their usual way of communicating, little looks or touches saying things like “help me out” or “hang on” or “later” or “I’m here.” Vaguely he’s aware of Linda speaking to him about his show and how her son is a fan, and he turns his attention to her. Dean pats him on the hip, winks, and tells him he’s going to make a new pot of coffee so Cas can be “sociable.” Cas believes his sociability isn’t any better or worse in the morning than it is in the afternoon, but a few grumpy mornings have created a running joke between the pair. Again, Dean’s behavior isn’t any different than usual, and Cas isn’t sure what role he should play as he’s left alone with the group of women. They had talked about pretending they were a couple for the reunion, but not for his mother or her friends. Right now they’re asking him about his work and the TV show, so he is safe, but if they ask about the “relationship” he figures he’ll try to be as nebulous as possible. Then he remembers Tillie, the mother of gossipy Becky Rosen, Dean’s former classmate. He suspects that Tillie may be just as gossipy as her daughter and he understands that she might speak to her daughter before the reunion. He vows to himself to at least be as honest as he can be until he can talk with Dean more about their plan. He is grateful that Dean walks back into the room with their coffees before he can be grilled by the curious women about their relationship. Unfortunately, the grilling begins as soon as Dean sets their coffees down.

“So, Becky was thrilled to get your RSVP, Dean,” Tillie smiles. “To be honest, she wasn’t sure if you were coming.”

“Uh, yeah, it took me a while to clear my schedule,” Dean says, stumbling through what he hopes is a convincing lie.

“Oh, yes, Becky told me you and Cas were very busy with your jobs and probably had to do a lot of finagling!” she supplies. Dean nods, bolstering the lie as he puzzles how Becky would have known Cas was coming with him. He hadn’t put his name on the response.

“So how long have you been together?” she asks. Cas feels the minute twitch of Dean’s thigh muscle against his leg and takes over.

“Well, seems like we’ve been partners in crime forever,” Cas says smoothly, answering in a way that isn’t really an answer, and Dean could kiss him (would really like to kiss him, maybe he could kiss him?) for jumping in. The women chirp and sigh.

“Oh, that’s darling! Becky says you met in high school?”

“We did, yes.”

“Aww, high school sweethearts!”

“Well, no,” Cas explains. “We developed a deep friendship during high school, one that is still the foundation of our relationship.” _Smooth, Cas_ , Dean thinks, _and true_. Cas hasn’t even lied yet, not really.

“Okay, but who said I love you first?” Ellen pipes up, and Dean wants to crawl in a hole, even though the question is, on the surface, easy to answer. He bashfully raises his hand, and Ellen scoffs. “You? I thought you were emotionally constipated like your father.” Everyone, even his mother, chuckles.

“It was very sweet, actually,” Cas defends Dean, and he presses his leg against Cas a bit in thanks. “It was a rather emotional evening all around, and we were talking about something else entirely when Dean just looked at me and said, ‘I love you, man, you know that, right?’” The women cackle and tease Dean about what they think is his rather flippant admission, but Cas looks at Dean fondly, remembering Dean’s dark night of the soul. “It wasn’t poetry, but we aren’t poets,” he grins, and Dean remembers their inside joke and grins back. Cas keeps his eyes on Dean and finishes, “We are just two people who share a profound bond, and it was perfect for us.”

Everything Cas says is fact – the emotional evening, Dean’s sudden admission, their bond – but Dean finds himself buying into the _way_ Cas tells the story, into his soft tone and his dewy eyes, and it’s dangerous. Listening to him tell the story, spinning it to make it sound like they were confessing some sort of romantic love for each other, Dean feels… well, exposed, because from his side of things Cas isn’t spinning anything at all. If Cas had asked him that night if Dean meant he was in love with him, Dean would’ve said yes. He would still say yes if Cas asked, but he hasn’t.

And suddenly, Dean realizes they’ve been staring at each other and that his face is on fire. _Yup, way to sell the story_ , he thinks. He rolls his eyes at himself internally. Cas seems to come to awareness around the same time and clears his throat before turning to face the women, who are about to melt into puddles of sentimental goo. Cas was just being honest, but now wonders if he’s said too much and if Dean is upset with him.

“I, uh, should get a refill,” Cas stutters as he stands quickly, empty mug in hand. “It was nice to speak to all of you. Enjoy your meeting.”

“Right behind you,” Dean says on the heels of Cas’ statement, standing so suddenly he bumps into Cas and has to be steadied by the man. “Bye ladies.” He flashes them a charming smile before nearly tripping out of the room, Cas beside him with an undecipherable look on his face. They hear the murmurs of happy women behind them.

They enter the 90s-style kitchen that’s in serious need of a remodel, and Cas turns suddenly to lean against the counter and asks, “Did I upset you? Talking about that night?”

Dean can’t help it. As he watches the cautiousness and concern and affection flit through Cas’ eyes like the headlights of cars passing a window, he feels a wave of love for the man that threatens to carry him away. Rather than fight the wave, he chooses to do what he did as a little boy playing at the beach: he lets go and allows the wave to carry him toward the shore. Dean wraps Cas in a hug.

“I’m not upset,” he says softly, so only Cas hears him. “Just… thank you. I don’t think I could do this without you.” Cas slowly brings his arms around Dean and rests their heads together.

Mary steps quietly into the room to procure the finger sandwiches she made earlier. They don’t notice her. She eyes them fondly before sneaking out.

They spend the day fixing up a few things around the house and playing video games on Dean’s old gaming system in the basement. That night, they decide to clear things with Mary, because Dean can’t stand to lie to her. Sarah and Sam sit in on the conversation. Without going into too much detail, they explain Dean’s anxiety about the upcoming reunion and that he thought it would help if he brought Cas along as his boyfriend (“partner,” Cas corrects, and Dean rolls his eyes heavenward; they have an argument about which term they’ll use before Sam tells them to get on with it). Her reaction is not what he expects.

“If you say so,” says Mary breezily, with a tiny smile Dean cannot interpret. “I’m happy to continue telling people you’re partners. Would you prefer not sleeping in the same bed?”

“Nah, it’s fine, we already do at home,” Dean states without thinking; Cas looks at him with wide eyes and he hides his face in his hands and swears. The three raise their eyebrows. Cas pats Dean on the back and shakes his head fondly.

“He broke my bed,” Cas explains; the eyebrows raise higher and Dean groans. Cas realizes how his statement may be construed and clarifies, “Dean used my bed as a trampoline after getting his new job. He was very excited.”

Sam challenges them by saying, “And you’re still sharing? Wasn’t that months ago?”

Dean’s face is still hidden unhelpfully in his hands, so Cas answers, “Well, uh… yes. We just really… haven’t, uh… had time to….”

“And you didn’t just put the mattresses on the floor?” Sam grills.

“Uh, well, they’re still on top of the broken frame and, uh… we just haven’t had the opportunity to, uh, get it out of the room,” Cas answers. Sam stares at Cas and nods slowly. Cas feels like he’s playing the defendant to Sam’s prosecutor.

“So exactly how long have you been pretending, again?” Mary asks with an air of innocence.

“Just a day or two,” Dean says, finally removing his hands from his face.

“And it really hasn’t been all that much of anything,” Cas continues. “We’ve mostly just followed the lead of others. Jo believed we were together and we did nothing to dissuade her…”

“You rubbed my back,” Dean points out.

“That was meant to calm you from your laughing fit, not to persuade Joanna. And then this morning, with your friends, Dean hugged me…”

“That wasn’t the pretend part, Cas, the pretend part was when you said all that stuff…”

“I don’t know what you mean, Dean. Everything was factual.”

“Yeah, but the way you said…” Dean stops when he realizes three curious faces are staring at them with amused smiles. He addresses them with, “Uh, anyway, so yeah. We just wanted you to know so it wouldn’t be weird if we had to act the part outside of here.”

“But you’re not gonna be acting like it here at home,” Sam clarifies.

“Well no, why would we need to do that?” Dean asks.

He smirks at his fiancée and his mother. “Just checking.”

“So what I want to know is: how did you figure out your story? And how did you negotiate how much you would touch? That sort of thing,” Sarah says, and Cas and Dean trade confused looks.

“We haven’t even discussed it yet,” Cas admits. Another look is shared between the three on the couch.

“Well, you have to in order to make sure you don’t mess it up!” She starts shooting questions at them, and when they stick to their real lives together there is surprisingly little they need to work out to make it sound like they are a couple. They offer each other a high five when Sarah declares that they have passed the test.

“Okay, now let’s see you kiss! And it needs to be real! Tongues, people!” she demands with a gleam in her eyes. Cas chuckles and Dean blushes and they tell her they’ll work that out on their own.

At bedtime, Dean grabs a blanket and the pillow from the guest room and goes in the living room to sleep on the couch, feeling awkward about sharing a bed with Cas since his mother somehow thought they were living together as a couple and having hot sex regularly (okay, that’s just how Dean thinks of it) and now knows they aren’t a couple at all. He’s restless and uncomfortable on the small space. The sounds of his childhood home are different than the sounds of their home, and he’s gotten used to Cas’ steady breathing beside him. He’s still awake when he hears feet on the stairs. He knows it’s Cas. He can tell by the way he lets his arches slide on each stair tread as he descends them, just like at home.

“Come to the guest room with me, Dean,” he rumbles. He holds out his hand to help Dean up.

Dean quickly complies.


	7. Chapter 7

Mary’s birthday is coming up soon and Dean and Sam want to celebrate it while they’re visiting, so the brothers, Sarah, and Cas ready themselves for shopping once Sam and Cas return from their run. They plan to visit the little downtown area, as Cas already has something in mind for his second mom.

“Can’t I just sign my name on your gift, Cas?” Dean whines as they find a spot a bit farther than usual from the stores lining the street running through the center of town, as the closer spots are taken up by churchgoers and Sunday brunchers.

“You can, certainly, but that does seem more like a couple thing to do,” Cas points out. He shrugs as he catches Dean’s eyes over the hood of the car. “Although I’m not necessarily one to adhere to convention.” Dean smirks as his genius friend, well on his way toward eventual tenure at one of the most prestigious universities in the country, sips his green tea and tugs on his burgundy “Support Women in Science” t-shirt. His blue-tipped hair is tousled even more than usual by the summer breeze and Castiel is completely oblivious to how much Dean is in love with him.

“Yeah, I get it, no joint gifts,” he grumbles as he meets Cas at the front of the car and they walk side by side on the sidewalk. Sam and Sarah walk directly behind them.

“I’m not saying we can’t, I’m simply pointing out how it appears.” Cas doesn’t give a flying fuck how it appears, but he doesn’t want Dean to feel uncomfortable.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll find something.”

“Not a gift card, Dean,” he chides.

“What’s wrong with gift cards?”

“Dean, this saintly woman raised you. Please don’t stop by the gas station on our way home and buy a gift card to Golden Corral. Or worse, a card for the gas station you entered.”

“It won’t be a freaking gift card! Jesus, I get it!” Sam and Sarah snicker behind them, and Dean shuts his mouth about the gift.

After perusing a few stores and leaving Sam behind at the natural foods store, Cas finds the store he wanted: an art specialty store. He knows little about art and doesn’t really know what he wants to purchase, so he spends a great deal of time talking with the elderly owner and with Sarah about brushes and types of canvas and whatnot. The owner’s son and granddaughter wander over and they recognize Cas. The girl, perhaps 14 or 15, shyly says she likes his shirt and asks Cas for an autograph. He graciously complies, although he’s slightly baffled as to why she would want his autograph in the first place. She mentions her interest in STEM and Dean knows he’s lost him. Getting young people interested in the sciences is one of his passions.

Dean sidles up to Cas and squeezes his hip to get his attention. “I’m gonna go next door and look for a watch for my mom,” he tells Cas quietly in his ear. Cas nods and gives him a quick smile before returning his attention to the teen, who’s gazing at him in wonder and admiration. _Me too, kid_ , he thinks.

A small, family-run jewelry store in need of a facelift sits next to the art store. Its small windows display gleaming necklaces, tennis bracelets, something called a “right hand ring,” and engagement sets. A tiny bell announces Dean’s entrance. He spots the sign for ladies’ watches and sees a couple standing there, so he leans on a glass counter to wait his turn. Looking down, he spies a selection of men’s rings. Gold, white gold, platinum, and titanium bands, plain and patterned and bejeweled, twinkle at him. A couple of tiny photos, one showing two smiling men in suits and one showing two men’s hands sporting matching bands, stare back at Dean and clue him in. These are men’s engagement and wedding rings. It was nice to see his hometown was becoming a little more open-minded. His mind wanders to Cas, his fake partner, his real-life best friend and sharer of his home and his life, and he allows himself to indulge a little in his more-than-occasional fantasy: Cas, waking up next to him, sleepily asking Dean what he wants to do that weekend, and Dean drowsily replying that they could take a drive and check out little bookstores along the coast or run errands and go for drinks later. It’s nothing different than what they actually do in real life, except that in his fantasy they’re wearing matching bands and Cas turns Dean into a blathering idiot via mind-melting sex. Bodies still interlocked, he would look at Dean and say…

“Thinking about marriage?”

The woman’s voice filters into his fantasy like outside noises incorporate themselves into dreams, and he smiles dopily as he drawls, “Yeah.” He notices his fingers unconsciously reaching toward the rings.

“Let me show you a few,” she says warmly as she pulls out a tray. “This one is beautiful. Here, try this on.” He barely notices her, still caught up in his own head as she hands him a simple titanium band with a strip of onyx (he thinks) running through the middle. He slides it on his finger and admires the weight of it and the significance behind it.

“It’s beautiful, Dean,” she coos, and that’s when Dean looks up and sees who he’s talking to.

“Becky!” he says in shock. _Crap._

“It’s good to see you, Dean,” she smiles. She seems calmer than she was in high school. “You and Cas finally going to take the plunge?”

“Uh, heh, just daydreaming a little bit.” He wiggles the ring off his finger and hands it back to her quickly.

“Mmm, well, I can understand why. He’s quite the catch,” she winks, and Dean can’t help but agree. “Here, try this one on.” She hands him another ring, this one platinum with coppery accents. He has to admit he likes the way it looks, and hey, if she thinks Dean’s serious enough to look at rings, it can only help their cover story.

He takes the platinum ring off and is about to try on another when a low voice purrs next to his ear, “Hello Dean.”

“Cas! Shit!” Dean jumps and faces Cas, trying to back up but failing since he’s butting into the display counter. Heat flushes his face and chest as he scrambles to explain why the hell he’s trying on rings. His arms spread across the counter in a futile attempt to cover up what he’s been viewing, and he can hear Becky scooping the trays off the glass top and back into the case as discreetly as she can.

“What are you looking at?” he says, a question in his voice but the answer already known by the amusement in his eyes. Dean tries anyway.

“Uh, nothing much, just browsing.”

Cas shifts to peer around Dean and Dean shifts with him. “The women’s watches are over there,” he says as he thumbs over his shoulder.

“Uh, yeah, well…”

“Dean, there’s a large sign above your head.” Dean looks up and sees “Men’s Engagement Rings” written in script above him. _Fuck._

“Uh, yeah no, they’re not watches, just uh,” he stumbles, and now he’s aware that the entire store is watching them, “I was… just waiting until the watches were… um, ready. To be looked at.” He groans internally at how ridiculous he sounds.

Cas can barely keep from laughing, but he keeps his face serious as he says, “Do watches need to prepare themselves for you to look at them, Dean?”

“No, that’s not what I meant!” he practically shrieks in his near-hysteria. “I was waiting for the other people to be done!”

“I see.” Cas nods and steps closer, taking Dean’s hands in his. His hands are like suede. “Well, did you find anything you liked here?” he asks with tenderness in his eyes that makes Dean’s heart want to cuddle in it.

The question stymies Dean, and he stares at Cas. “Uh, no, not really,” he finally manages.

“Good,” he says softly, drawing close enough that Dean feels his breath brush across his face. He holds Dean’s left hand between their chests; Cas is watching his own thumb trace tiny circles on Dean’s finger where a ring would be. “Because I have plans for this finger.” He meets Dean’s eyes.

Dean can’t help it. It’s his fantasy come true, and all good fantasies have a kiss in them somewhere, so he plants his right hand behind Cas’ neck and pulls him forward until their mouths meet, a melding of lips both gentler and more intense than he’d ever imagined. Dean always thought when this finally happened that he’d feel Cas’ perpetual stubble scrape his face, or the slide of his full, chapped lips, or the tufts of hair snaking through his fingers, so he is surprised when he feels none of it. Instead, his senses seem overwhelmed and he feels this strange feeling of presentness, of being so fully in the moment that he’s losing his sense of _he_ and _me_ and only feels _we_. It’s like the thing they say at weddings that he’s heard but never understood before: _the two shall become one_.

Cas pulls away from the kiss first, but gradually, as if weaning them both from it, pressing tiny kisses to his lips until they are separated and breathing gently into each other’s mouths.

“Do you still want to look at watches?” asks Cas in a quiet, light tone. It’s the same tone he uses when they’ve been discussing something heavy and they’re trying to transition out of it. Dean is never more grateful for Cas than in that moment.

“Well, it’s probably better than the show we’re giving people,” he jokes, and Cas laughs and lightly pushes Dean toward the watches. They don’t talk about it any further, each of them assuming the other’s actions were part of the act.

Later that day, after the purchases are wrapped and hidden and supper is consumed the five of them settle in to watch some television. Cas checks his Twitter feed and groans. He leans over and shows Dean: someone leaked a photo of them kissing just under the Men’s Engagement Rings sign, and it’s all over the place with tags like #hotsmartguys and congratulatory tweets to @astroCas and @MechEngDW (how they’d figured out Dean’s Twitter handle or whatever they called it Cas would never know).

“Shit,” Dean murmurs to Cas, but Sam catches it.

“What?” Sam asks, and it’s no use because Sarah grabs the phone and looks at it before they can even move to get it back. She smiles widely while Sam’s mouth drops in shock. Sarah holds the phone up so Mary can see as well, and she smiles in surprise and fawns over the picture with her future daughter-in-law.

“Way to make it look realistic, guys,” Sam snarks once he recovers.

“You two look adorable,” Mary sighs.

“I think I need a drink,” Dean mutters and walks out to the kitchen.

“I have an idea,” Cas says behind Dean, who has learned not to startle anymore (or not as often anyway) when Cas silently materializes near him.

“What’s that?” Dean asks with his head still in the fridge. Cas tells him to pull out the six pack while he grabs a backpack from the car, and Dean smiles. He knows exactly what Cas’ idea is, even if they haven’t done it since the night before Dean’s graduation.

It doesn’t take long to make the walk. They pass by the areas that kids are still using for smoking and drinking and whatever else kids get up to today and settle within the copse of trees on top of the hill behind the high school. Their little spot wasn’t as well-used then because the top of the hill was too exposed and the little carve-out just on the other side of the hill was really only big enough for one-and-a-half people to fit comfortably. It looks like today’s kids have the same opinion, because there aren’t any cigarette butts or used condoms here. Cas and Dean forego their oft-used carve-out (they were never opposed to sitting close to each other, even then) in favor of the top of the hill. A few stars scattered across the sky are visible in the spaces between the leaves; countless more are washed out by light pollution. Cas pulls two beers out of the backpack, twisting the caps off both of them and flicking the caps into the bag before handing one to Dean. They each take a long draught and sigh in unison. Dean starts to giggle and Cas side-eyes him.

“Do you remember when we wanted to see what it was like to be drunk, and you got so wasted you thought you could fly if you tried hard enough? You kept making these flapping noises and raising your arms like they were fuckin’ wings!” Dean cackles. “I had to stop you from ‘flying’ down the damn hill.”

Wryly, Cas responds, “Yes, and I seem to recall that was the same night you impressed me with your knowledge of 90s boy band songs…”

“Hey! We said we’d never bring that up again!”

“You started it.” He nudges Dean’s shoulder and Dean stares into the distance, thinking back over a decade ago.

“Man, the month after sucked, too. I had to do Sammy’s laundry and, let me tell you, there are things I never wanted to know about him.”

“Why did you have to do that?”

“Because he caught us sneaking into the house, remember?”

“Yes, barely. He threatened to tell your parents on you?”

“No, he threatened to tell your dad on you, and I didn’t want you getting in trouble.”

“Why did he do that?” Cas sounds genuinely confused, and Dean sighs to himself.

“Because he knew it would work way better than telling my parents on me, and as my little brother it was his responsibility to make my life hell.”

“You never told me that.” Dean shrugs and Cas presses into Dean’s side and says, “That was very noble of you. Thank you.” He plants a quick peck on the hair near his temple.

Dean shyly admits, “Well, it wasn’t all noble. If you got grounded, I wouldn’t’ve been able to see you.” Cas chuckles softly and Dean is glad his friend can’t see his reddened face.

“True, and then who would’ve helped me with the poetry unit?” Cas asks with a smirk.

“God, that was so funny,” Dean snickers as he remembers cool-as-a-cucumber Cas flopping around on his bed like a fish, whining that he didn’t understand poetry and never would. He imitates Cas’ low voice. “’I’m not a poet, Dean! I’ve never been in love! How the hell am I supposed to analyze a sonnet when I don’t even know what they’re talking about!’”

“’We are not poets!’” Cas continues with the story in a haughty British accent, quoting Dean as Dean is quoting him. “’But we are men of science, and we can approach this problem _scientifically_! What is our evidence?’”

“’Our evidence is that this is stupid!’” Dean hoots as he says Cas’ line and remembers his petulant tantrum. “God, you were so pissed off that you had to do that assignment.”

“And I only got an A minus. I had to do extra credit to get my grade back up.”

“Oh, you poor, poor thing who got a free ride to Stanford.”

“Hey, that extra credit might’ve made all the difference.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. It probably wasn’t all the work you’d done as a high schooler that post-doctorates weren’t even doing. It had to be the extra credit that blew them away.” He nudges Cas with his shoulder, and Cas bumps him with his head affectionately.

They talk about other times spent on their hill – like when Dean tried to cheer him up after Cas’ humiliating date with a girl named Chastity, the countless times Dean was escaping some asshole at school, and when Cas sat by Dean’s side when he finally ripped open the envelope containing his SAT scores. They talk for a while about the people Dean is hoping to see and those he’d rather stick a hot poker through his eyes than see. Cas helpfully suggests sticking the hot poker through their eyes rather than Dean’s, which makes him smile yet again at Cas’ devotion. Finally, Cas brings up the issue that drove them up there this time around.

“I’m sorry my modicum of pseudo-celebrity has made your situation more complicated,” Cas says seriously.

Dean dismisses him with a wave. “Hey, you’re the one who drew the short straw. I’m a nobody, but people know you and now they’re gonna think you’re engaged. Puts a damper on the whole dating thing for you. Although I guess you could deny it.”

“Dean.” Cas’ meaning in that one word was clear. He hates it when Dean implies anything negative about himself. Dean shuts his mouth. They sit in silence for a while.

“I’d like you to wear my ring,” Cas says suddenly. Dean turns to Cas, who has pulled off a white gold ring with a small sapphire embedded flush with the band that he wears on his right ring finger. Dean gulps. His fantasy jumpstarts again and crashes headlong into the glinting metal between Cas’ thumb and forefinger. Dean remembers this ring being made for Cas. His father wanted Cas to have something special from his mother, but his sister already had her wedding set as well as most of her other jewelry. His father had the stones taken out of the only piece he kept: the mother’s ring he’d purchased for his wife after Cas was born, a simple piece that held Anna’s and Cas’ birthstones. He gave Anna her birthstone to do with as she wished, then took his own wedding ring and had it melted down with the remaining metal of the mother’s ring and had Cas’ birthstone embedded in it. Chuck gave it to Cas the day before he left for college. It is one of the only things he has left of his mother, and he treasures it. He realizes he’s been silent and staring too long when Cas says, “Dean?”

“Uh, Cas,” he stutters, “I… I can’t do that. That ring means everything to you.”

“And?” Cas frowns and his brows are raised and pinched together; he looks puzzled, like he doesn’t understand why this is a problem. Dean tries again.

“This is special, man, it’s… I mean, I know it’s just temporary but man, your heart and soul are in this ring.” Cas’ face relaxes into a small, gentle smile, and Dean is satisfied that he seems to understand.

“I trust you with my heart and soul, Dean,” he says softly.

 _Oh dear God_ , Dean thinks as he sits there, dumbfounded and trying to rein in the tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes. _This is not a real proposal, Winchester. For the love of all that’s holy, pull yourself together and say something._

“Well, then, lay it on me, bro!” he says. Cas stares at him with wide eyes and lips pressed into a thin line, and heat races through Dean’s veins and blooms under his skin as he realizes what a colossally ridiculous thing he just said after Cas’ sweet words. Dean has never experienced slow motion before, but he feels it now as he watches Cas’ lips, nearly white with how hard he’s pressing them together, and waits for a response. It is not the one he expects.

Cas’ loud, surprised laugh fills the space around them. He slaps his thigh and rolls to the ground on his back like the pill bugs he and Sammy used to play with in the backyard. “Oh, I’m so using that in our engagement story!” he wheezes between bouts of laughter.

“No no no! I’m gonna sound like a tool!” Dean protests. He’s embarrassed but he’s laughing, too. “Come on, I already sounded stupid when you told them how I said I love you, don’t make me sound like an idiot twice!”

“The words came out of _your_ mouth, Dean,” Cas points out, voice breathy and weak from laughing so hard.

“But you don’t have to tell the story like that!”

Cas finally catches his breath. “No, but I’m not an actor, Dean. To be believable, I need to stay as close to the truth as possible.” He grins at his friend.

“Then let me try again!”

“Welllll…”

“Come on! And hey, you didn’t even say ‘will you marry me,’ you just said you wanted me to wear your ring! We both need a do-over!” Dean crows triumphantly, knowing he’s caught Cas in his own logic.

“All right, if you insist,” Cas sighs, “although I would argue that if we were in a romantic relationship and I said that to you, you would understand the connotation.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean says, “get with the proposin’.”

Cas rolls his eyes but takes Dean’s hand and sits on his feet between Dean’s legs, which are sprawled wide over the ground. “Dean, since I know your bad habits and both our names are on the deed of our home anyway…”

“Cas!” Dean says to the mischievous twinkle in Cas’ blue eyes. “Do it right or I won’t agree to marry you.”

Cas snickers, but then clears his throat. His face is serious but soft as he takes Dean’s hand. “Dean Robert Winchester, I’ve spent nearly half my life with you. May I spend the rest of my life with you as your husband?”

Cas has dried grass in his hair and a tiny cut near his lip where he nicked himself shaving. His knee is sticking out of the faded, holey jeans he won’t throw out and his t-shirt is dusty with the dirt of a dry Kansas summer. He’s spent most of the evening laughing at Dean and his eyes are shining in the nearby security lights of the high school and he says he’s not an actor but God he must be because all Dean wants to say is, “Yes, I’ll marry you, Castiel Charles Novak,” and have it be real, because it _feels so real_.

He must have said it out loud, because he feels residual warmth on metal as Cas slides his beloved ring on his finger and wonders how he can pretend to breathe when he really can’t.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says simply, as if Cas should be the one thanking him.

“Hey, you’ve gotta wear one, too,” Dean says, finally finding space in his lungs. He wiggles a silver band off his finger, a family ring that has been passed down from oldest son to oldest son for three generations. It was his high school graduation present, given to him right before he bailed out of Kansas. Cas holds out his hand without argument. Dean takes it, savoring the feeling a second longer than propriety dictates, and slides the ring onto Cas’ left ring finger. It’s a bit loose, but it won’t fall off.

“Thank you, Dean,” he says again and Dean thinks, not for the first time in their lives together or even the first time this trip, of how much he loves this man who’s now wearing his ring.

Cas cannot stare into Dean’s eyes for another moment without confessing his feelings or kissing him senseless, so he scoots out from between Dean’s legs and plants himself beside him. They drink some more beer and listen to the chirping of nighttime.

“We didn’t talk about the kiss,” Dean says quietly.

“I know you’ve been worried about it, but don’t be. It was fine,” Cas replies. _If fine means touching the edge of Heaven, then yes, fine_. “We did agree there may be some intimate physical demonstration.”

“Uh… okay, yeah, good. So… if we did that again, it would be fine. You know… if necessary.”

“Yes, it would be fine. It would be expected, in fact, since we are engaged now.” He turns to Dean and flashes him a smile. Dean chuckles and nods.

“So, should we have a signal first, are there any rules about it, or what?”

“I think spontaneity makes the most sense in whatever situation arises, so we should do whatever makes sense. I trust you, Dean. I don’t feel the need for rules unless you do.”

“You sure?”

“Of course,” Cas says before adding, with a wink and a smirk, “lay it on me, bro.”

“Fuckin’ asshole,” Dean laughs as he shoves Cas playfully.

“Fuckin’ asshole _fiancé_ ,” Cas corrects.

“I want a divorce,” Dean pouts.

“We’re not married yet.”

“Then I want to break up.”

“No you don’t,” Cas replies confidently. He reclines on his hands and allows his shoulder to brush Dean’s as he watches the sky.

“No, I don’t,” Dean confirms and does the same.


	8. Chapter 8

Cas is sitting at the worn kitchen table with a large cup of coffee, a plate of toast, and the newspaper spread before him. It’s an indulgence seldom afforded him back home on weekdays, and he’s taking advantage of it. Pen in hand, he gets ready to tackle the crossword puzzle when Mary strides in, humming to the radio Cas didn’t notice was on.

“Morning, honey,” she greets after sitting across from him. He looks up and smiles warmly as he returns her greeting. They make small talk for a minute until she notices the silvery band gracing Cas’ finger.

“Is this because of that picture?” she asks, tapping on the ring.

“Oh, um,” he says, remembering that Mary didn’t know yet. They had explained their false engagement to Sam and Sarah when they returned home last night, but Mary had already gone to bed. Despite looking nonplussed at the news, he now realizes she might take offense to a family heirloom being used as part of a ploy. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, of course not,” she assures him.

“Thank you. Dean is wearing mine as well.”

She pauses, absorbing that information. “That’s a very special ring to you,” she says finally.

“As I told him, I trust him with it.”

“I’m sure you do. It’s in good hands.”

“I know.”

She considers him thoughtfully before saying, “You’ve always done so much for him… seeing him through the trouble he went through in high school, helping him financially through Stanford, buying a house together, and now sacrificing your privacy and your love life pretending to be his partner.”

He shrugs. “He’s done just as much for me.”

“Hmm, yes. The two of you,” she starts, then shakes her head fondly as she smiles at him, “always making sacrifices for each other, always wanting the best for each other, always choosing each other. You’re more of a couple than most couples I know.”

It’s not the first time he’s heard it – he’s actually lost romantic partners over it – but it sounds different coming from her. Cas squirms under her gaze and averts his eyes, tapping his pen and staring unseeing at the black and white squares under his hand. Sam and Sarah clatter into the room, and to his relief she turns her attention to them. He remembers to breathe and takes a few steadying breaths before refocusing on the puzzle.

“Morning, Sunshine!” Dean calls to Cas as he ambles into the space. He helps himself to Cas’ coffee.

“Good morning, Rigel,” Cas says without looking up. He fills in an answer on the puzzle with one hand while holding up his plate of toast with the other. Dean takes the top piece, which only has one bite taken out of it, and stuffs half of it into his mouth.

“What’s ‘Rigel’ – is that some sort of engineering thing?” Sarah asks.

“There’s a story,” Cas begins.

“There’s always a story,” Dean grins and nudges Cas. He sips Cas’ coffee.

Cas explains, “Dean has called me Sunshine for years, and he had a girlfriend who was very jealous about it. I didn’t care for her…”

“Hated her!”

“I didn’t hate her, Dean, I just thought she wasn’t good for you. Anyway, I didn’t care for her, so I purposely fueled her jealousy by calling him Rigel. Rigel is a star in the Orion constellation that is brighter than the sun, which I told her is exactly how I think of Dean. I made sure to flutter my eyelashes in a beguiling manner.”

“Cas told me she flipped her fuckin’ lid,” Dean laughs.

“She did. I told her if she wanted to call Dean something even brighter, she could call him Quasar. Those are much brighter, in terms of absolute magnitude.”

“The girlfriend left, but the nickname stayed,” Dean finishes, grinning at Cas. “Cas’ instincts were right on, though. She was cheating on me.” Dean looks at his family, who are all watching them and beaming. “What?”

“Nothing. That’s a cute story, guys,” Sarah says slyly.

“You’re up earlier than I expected,” Cas says to Dean, completely changing the subject.

Dean takes another swig of Cas’ coffee. “We’re heading out to shop in a few minutes. Mom wants help picking out a gift for you for your birthday.”

“My birthday isn’t until September. Besides, I don’t need gifts.”

“Yeah, but we won’t all be together then, so she wants to celebrate it tomorrow when we celebrate hers. And yes, you need gifts.” Dean tears Cas’ remaining piece of toast in half and drops one half on the plate as he munches on the other half.

“I see. Well, I’ll go get ready then,” Cas says as he starts to stand. Dean sits him down with a hand to his shoulder. Cas sees his ring on Dean’s hand and his breath catches for just a moment.

“No, no, you have to find something else to do today. You’re not coming with us when we’re trying to shop for you.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for the recipient to enlighten the gift-buyer as to what he’d like, instead of the gift-buyer trying to guess at it?”

“No, I’ve told you this a hundred times. Gifts are supposed to be surprises, Cas.”

“But you get me a gift card every year, Dean. That’s hardly a surprise.”

“The surprise is _which_ gift card you’ll get!” Dean says as he spreads his hands out showily. “Where will you get to go? What will you get to do?”

“Well, my last birthday I got to go nowhere because we don’t have a Cracker Barrel in California…” Cas smirks teasingly.

“How the hell was I supposed to know that? Why do they even sell their cards at the store if they don’t have one in our state? And hey, we can go while we’re here!”

“…and the birthday before that I got a card to Red Lobster.”

“I forgot you’re allergic to shellfish! I’m sorry! But hey, we got to use the card anyway. You got tilapia or haddock or something.”

“What I got was strange looks when I warned them not to mix my food with shellfish of any kind. At Red Lobster. Where you got a huge shrimp platter. The waitress was concerned for my health.”

“Why? You weren’t eating it!”

“Because she thought you were my partner and we were going to be intimate later. She feared I would have a reaction from your saliva.”

Dean blushes furiously. “Why’d she think you were my boyfriend?”

Cas raises his eyebrows. “Perhaps because you were moaning and sucking each piece of shrimp suggestively when you were giving me grief about not being able to eat it?”

“Oh yeah!” Dean laughs, then has the self-respect to look sheepish when his mother gives him the evil eye. “I probably shouldn’t do that in public.”

“Perhaps not.”

“Well, this morning has gotten way off track,” Sam observes loudly as he makes another pot of coffee for the road. Dean finishes Cas’ coffee and waits by the counter with his cup to refill it.

“I’ll have you know, Mr. Smarty Pants,” Dean pipes up, backtracking to the start of the gift-buying conversation, “that I already have your gift, and it’s not a gift card. So there.” He sticks his tongue out and Cas rolls his eyes.

“If you say so,” he replies, face serious except for his eyes, which are playful and don’t believe a word Dean is saying.

“I do say so,” Dean says. When Sam is done with the coffeepot, Dean pours another cup for Cas and sets it down next to him. “Hey, I’ll leave Baby so you’re not stranded, okay?” Dean says casually, referring to his beloved car, and Sam nearly chokes on the sip of coffee he’s taken.

“Thank you. I think I’ll drive over and see Mrs. Curtis at the library, and maybe stop by my old neighborhood and see if Mr. and Mrs. Sternberg are home. I haven’t seen them since we moved.”

“Visiting the librarian and old people. Nerd,” Dean says affectionately. “Need me to leave my car keys?”

“No, I have mine,” Cas responds, and this time Sam does choke on his coffee. Sarah slaps him on the back a few times.

“You let Cas drive _Baby_?” Sam nearly shouts in surprise and indignation. “And he has his own keys?”

“Well, yeah, we share her,” Dean says, confusion etching his forehead. “What’s the problem?”

“You never… you know what? Nothing. Nothing’s the problem,” Sam says, shaking his head.

The four birthday shoppers gather their travel mugs and money before heading out.

“Have fun being nerdy,” Dean says to Cas, who’s back to completing the crossword. “Obfuscate,” he says, pointing to a space.

“I hadn’t gotten that far yet, Dean!” Cas grumbles. “I hate it when you do that.”

“I know you do,” Dean chuckles gleefully. “Okay, we’re heading out. Love you.” He leans down and smacks a loud, exaggerated kiss to Cas’ temple. Cas presses into it naturally.

“Yeah, yeah, love you too. Go away, crossword ruiner.” He waves Dean away before he can give him any more answers.

“Alright, let’s go, folks!” Dean shouts and walks out of the kitchen, not noticing the questioning stares from Sam and Sarah. Mary wears a tiny smile. Sam and Sarah follow Dean out, leaving Mary and Cas alone. Cas, absorbed in his task, doesn’t notice.

“I wish you two really were engaged, Castiel,” she sighs.

Cas’ brain is one second behind his mouth as he replies absently, “Mmm, me t— _you, meet you_ at Cracker Barrel for supper tonight?” He looks up then and hopes beyond hope he’s covered up his slip of the tongue well enough.

Mary’s grin is wide. “Sure. We’ll text you a time.”

“Great!” Cas says too brightly. She is staring at him, and he knows she knows. “Can we, uh, chalk up the last thirty seconds to my usual social awkwardness, please?”

She laughs and walks out. Cas smells ink and paper as he rests his head on the table and tries not to think about the ring he cannot stop touching and the kiss still wet and burning on his temple.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little note for those who really like the character of Lisa Braeden on SPN: she is not canon-compliant in this story. She's actually much more like Amara in some ways in this fic, but my brain hung on to Lisa as the antagonist, so here it is.

“You don’t have anything for his birthday, you friggin’ liar,” Sam says as they unfold their too-tall bodies from the backseat of their mother’s Toyota 4Runner into the mall parking lot. Mary and Sarah hop out of the front seats.

“Listen, I already feel like a loser, alright? I’ll find something.” Sam opens his mouth in rebuttal and Dean grumbles, “And not a gift card. I know.”

“Oh honey, I don’t think Cas was upset about the gift cards,” Mary soothes her son. “He seemed amused.”

“I don’t want him to be _amused_ , I want to blow his mind!” Dean gripes. Sam maturely refrains from commenting. “He always gets me these awesome gifts. Like one year, he got me tickets to see this friggin’ hilarious comedy show. Another year, he went to a bakery near us and paid in advance for 52 pies. I picked up a pie a week until my next birthday! And last year, he got me this race car experience thing where I got to drive racecars on a professional track.”

“I was so jealous about that one,” Sam grouses.

Dean smiles smugly before his face turns to despair once again. “So I’ve gotta get him something great. I just don’t know what.”

“You’ll come up with something wonderful, Dean. I just know it,” his mom says. She squeezes him around his waist.

A couple of hours later, he still has not come up with anything wonderful.

“This sucks,” Dean moans.

“Let’s eat some lunch,” Mary suggests. Food and another hour at the mall do not improve his situation. They sit on a bench to refocus.

“Well, what does Cas like?” Sarah asks.

“I don’t know,” Dean whines. _At least the others have been successful in their shopping_ , he thinks. His mom’s gifts are practical yet fun, and Sarah and Sam have an amazing gift they purchased over the phone during lunch after seeing the local business’ ad on their placemats. They don’t even live with him and they know how to buy him better gifts than Dean does. Dean will likely get stuck buying another gift card at the gas station.

“You could let him keep that ring, get engaged for real,” Sarah teases. “He’d probably love that.”

Dean huffs. “He would not, Sarah.” He tries not to say it with too much sadness in his voice. Sarah places a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“What’s something he likes to do? Give him an experience instead of a thing, like we are,” Sam suggests. 

They offer him suggestions – cooking classes, travel, parasailing – as Dean thinks. “Tweety Birds!” he shouts suddenly, jumping up.

“Uh, what?” Sam asks as the women watch him with anticipation.

“The Canary Islands!” Dean explains excitedly. “There’s some park there he says he’s always wanted to see. I could get him a trip there!”

“Dean, that’s a great idea!” Sam shouts, almost as excited as Dean, until he says, “But won’t that be kind of expensive?”

“Maybe, but I don’t care, it’s perfect and awesome.”

“Just like Cas,” Sarah teases good-naturedly, and laughs quietly when Dean agrees without thinking about it.

They leave the mall and drive to a strip mall that houses a coffee shop, a martial arts studio Dean knows well, an insurance agency, a laundromat, and a travel agency. As the agent asks him questions, Dean daydreams about how much fun they’ll have on this trip – the sights they’ll see, the awesome food they’ll eat, and just the time spent together without other distractions. He can’t wait to see the look on Cas’ face when he gives him the gift, when he gazes at the stars at the Teide Observatory, when… _wait, will Cas even want me to go with him_?

“Do you guys think Cas’ll want me going with him?” Dean asks uncertainly. Incredulous sounds answer him.

“As if, Dean. Of course he’ll want you to go. Provided he doesn’t drop dead of shock because you’re going on an airplane for several hours,” Sam says.

“Shut up. Maybe he doesn’t want me to go. Do you think maybe I should just buy him one ticket? No, that’s stupid, I’ll buy him the trip for two but let him decide who he wants to take. Yeah.” Dean wrings his hands. “Yeah.” The travel agent looks at him questioningly, and he nods for her to continue.

“He’ll always choose you, Dean,” his mother says, resting her hand on his forearm, and Dean’s heart dances in his throat.

The agent finishes the arrangements and takes the deposit. The trip won’t be for several months, not until late May when Cas is done his semester, but Dean is buzzing with the same sort of excitement he’d have if the trip was tomorrow. He can hardly wait to give him the gift.

“I’m just gonna give it to him tonight,” Dean says, and his mother scolds him.

“We are celebrating birthdays tomorrow night, Dean. You can wait.”

“I caaaan’t!”

“You can and you will. Let’s go get some coffee and pastries to celebrate.”

Dean grunts but complies. They have to stop for a stream of people leaving from the karate studio with yoga mats tucked under their arms. A voice he hasn’t heard in years calls his name. He turns and is surprised to see his old girlfriend, Lisa. He flashes a quick smile and nods his head in greeting.

“Dean Winchester,” she coos as she grabs his arm. “How are you?” She pulls him into a hug and he feels a bit awkward.

“I’m fine, thanks,” he says, and adds to be polite, “How about you?”

“Great!” she says with a wide smile. “You’re in town for the reunion?”

“Yeah, with Cas. We…”

“Oh, Casteel, yes, I think I remember him. Still friends after all these years?”

“Castiel,” he corrects her, annoyed. "Yeah, we’re eng…”

“Why don’t you come see my space? I just started it up last year. I work out of the karate studio here. My apartment is upstairs.”

“Um, that’s great, but my family…”

“Left without you,” she smiles, dark eyes twinkling. He turns and sees that the traitors have, in fact, left without him. “Come on in! I’d love to catch up.”

He looks around, feeling traitorous himself. “Uh, yeah, okay, but I only have a few minutes.”

“A few minutes with you is all I need,” she says.

 

_High school_

“Lisa and I are officially going out!” Dean told Castiel on a chilly spring afternoon up on the hill.

“That’s wonderful, Dean. She seems very nice,” Castiel answered. He was happy for his friend. It was the last time he was happy that Dean was with Lisa.

The couple was officially together April through June of Dean’s junior year. Like most young couples, they wanted to spend as much time together as they could, and so they shut out their other friends and basked in each other’s company. Dean grew tired of it quickly. He was used to seeing Castiel after school most days and a bunch more on the weekends, and he started to feel bad that he wasn’t seeing him except at school. Castiel told him it wasn’t a big deal, but after a month he did admit he missed his best friend. After that, Dean told Lisa he still wanted to spend time with her, but that he wanted them to spend time with their friends on their own as well as spend time with each other’s friends as a couple. She agreed, but resented Castiel and let him know it with dirty looks, the silent treatment and, Castiel suspected, in more insidious ways. Castiel started to receive anonymous nasty notes in his locker. Some of her larger male friends tried to intimidate him (it didn’t work). Rumors about him were rampant. Castiel let these things slide off his back like water off a duck, and Dean never believed the rumors. Castiel knew that, as a result, she only grew angrier with him, but he kept quiet about what she was doing. He feared that if he didn’t, she might take it out on Dean or he might lose Dean’s friendship, neither of which he could bear. Dean felt the tension between the two but had no idea what it was about; Lisa denied anything and Cas wouldn’t say. By June Dean’s feelings for her had fizzled out; it felt like too much work to be with her and he got a weird vibe from her he couldn’t explain, a possessiveness of sorts that he didn’t like. Plus, she never seemed to warm up to Cas no matter how much he tried to get them to hang out together, and that was a deal-breaker. He split up with her and spent his summer with Cas before he left for Stanford.

Dean’s senior year was filled with stress. He had some friends, thankfully, but now that Cas was gone the rumors flew – rumors about his sexual behavior (unless they counted masturbation he wasn’t sure what they were talking about), rumors about drugs (which he never used), rumors about failing out of school (he thought about dropping out at one point when money got tight but stuck with it; he’d never been failing). His few close friends helped him through and he was thankful for them, but he missed Cas fiercely. Toward the end of his senior year he felt particularly weak and lonely, and when Lisa approached him to go to prom and maybe start dating again, he almost agreed. She was popular and despite the intolerance and distaste of most of the student body for him in general, he didn’t seem to have any trouble with rumors about himself when he’d been with her last. When he was with her before he felt like everyone else – but he never really felt like himself like he did with Cas and his other friends. He talked to Cas first, and Cas said that since he’d been planning to come back to town for Dean’s graduation and to move Dean to California anyway, he could come back a little earlier and go to prom with him as friends. Dean was thrilled and turned Lisa down without a second thought.

Cas never told Dean about the hateful messages he received from the day he arrived until the day they moved away together.

 

***

 

They meet up with Cas at the Cracker Barrel in Olathe, and Dean nearly topples him in the parking lot. He lifts him up and swings him into an enthusiastic hug.

“I got you a kickass birthday gift!” he boasts.

“I’m very happy for you,” Cas laughs. “I thought you already had my gift?”

“I lied,” he shrugs, “but _now_ I have it, and it’s awesome! You are gonna love me when you open it!”

“I already love you,” he says sincerely. “Now, could you place me back on the ground? My jeans are digging into me quite uncomfortably.”

Dean sobers, either from hearing the I love you that sounded too close to what he really wants or from the fact that he’s still holding Cas. He drops him to the ground. “Let’s eat, I’m starving.”

“How are you starving?” Sam asks. “We had coffee, like, two hours ago.”

“ _You_ did. I got stuck, remember?”

“Oh yeah, with that woman.”

“Women throwing themselves at you again, Dean?” Cas teases.

Dean rolls his eyes hard. “Ugh. Remember Lisa? Lisa Braeden?”

_Oh, I remember Lisa Braeden_ , Cas thinks. He tries to remain nonchalant. “Yes. I haven’t had occasion to think about her in many years.” _Thank God_.

“Me neither. Remember Steven and Anne’s dojo? She does some yoga classes there and lives in the apartment upstairs. Anyway, we were going to the café next door when she saw me and stopped me.”

“You were in there a long time. You missed out on pie,” Sam reports.

“Tell me about it,” Dean pouts as he turns to Sam. “I thought I was never gonna get out of there.” He turns back to Cas and notices he looks a little off. “You okay?” he asks quietly. Cas never said anything negative about Lisa, but Dean thought maybe he wasn’t a fan, and he couldn’t blame him since Lisa was never warm and fuzzy with him. Cas dismisses him with a wave and Dean decides to change the subject. The rest of dinner goes smoothly, and Lisa is forgotten until the ride home, when Dean joins Cas in the Impala while the others ride back with Mary.

“Does it bug you that I talked to Lisa?” Dean asks. Cas is glad he’s driving so he doesn’t have to make eye contact.

“Does it bother me that you spoke to Lisa? No,” he responds. Of course, Dean doesn’t drop it.

“Does it bug you that she spoke to me?” Cas sighs and nods. “Why?”

“There’s just a lot of history that ten plus years has done little to erase the memory of,” Cas says carefully.

“Like history between me and Lisa? Dude, we weren’t that serious. We only went out for, what, a couple of months? I don’t even remember.”

“I’m unconcerned about your history with Lisa. It is just that – history. And even if it wasn’t, it would be none of my business.”

“We’re engaged, Cas. Of course it’s your business.”

Cas eyes him bemusedly and says nothing.

Dean breathes and collects himself. It’s only been a day, but the weight of the ring on his finger already feels right. _Fake-engaged_ , he thinks. _We are only fake-engaged_.

“I wouldn’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with, Cas.”

Cas chances a look at Dean while they sit at a red light. He’s looking at Cas with worry and earnestness, and he’s fidgeting with Cas’ ring on his finger, and Cas can’t help but smile in reassurance at his best friend. “I know you wouldn’t,” he says.

“So what’s the deal, Cas? No bullshit avoidance or talking around it.”

Cas sighs heavily but reluctantly acquiesces. “While you were dating, I was getting harassing notes and visits from people who threatened to harm me. There were the rumors too, of course. I suspected that Lisa or her friends were the ones harassing me.”

Dean feels his blood rush to his extremities, ready to fight to defend Cas despite the fact that no one was around. “Seriously? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Cas shakes his head. “It was clear her upset was with me, so I felt no need to upset you about it. Besides, I didn’t want to lose you as a friend.”

Dean’s eyes bore holes in the side of Cas’ face. “Dude. If you thought you’d lose me as a friend, you clearly don’t know me well enough.”

“I wouldn’t fear that now!” Cas glances quickly at him before returning his eyes to the road. “But back then, Dean, we’d only been friends for a few months! I knew how fickle people could be with their friendships, and I…” His voice catches and the pain of past harassment and potential loss blurs the road before him. He shakes his head and stops talking.

“Pull over, Cas,” Dean commands gently. Cas guides the Impala to the side of the road and shifts to park. He assumes Dean wants to take over the drive, so he unbuckles his seat belt and is quickly caught in a hold of another sort. Dean’s arms enfold him and his neck is pressed against Cas’ nose, and Cas breathes in the scent of his woodsy aftershave.

Cas has rarely cried in all the time Dean has known him, but now he relaxes in Dean’s embrace and Dean feels the wet heat of silent tears soak through his shirt. Cas is always so strong, like nothing on this mortal plane bothers him, and maybe Dean has assumed that nothing ever does. As the ambiguous clues from their past finally become clear, Dean feels awful that he never saw what was happening to Cas and what Lisa had to do with it. He’s ashamed of himself for not asking more questions, for assuming, for not being there when his friend needed him. He mumbles apologies into Cas’ hair, which Cas shakes off, and assurances that he will never leave him or hurt him, which Cas accepts by clutching him tighter.

“Nothing happened, I swear,” Dean reiterates, just in case. “I saw her studio, she dragged me up to her apartment and I saw her living room, and I beat it the hell out of there.”

“Dean, you don’t owe me…”

“An explanation, I know, but I want to, okay? I wouldn’t jeopardize us for anything.” Cas nods and Dean hugs him impossibly tighter.

“Okay, moment over,” Cas says with a smile as they separate and he dries his eyes, and Dean laughs.

“Moment over,” he agrees, but adds, “but don’t keep anything like that from me again, okay?”

“Okay,” he replies with a clear conscience, because the other thing he’s keeping from Dean isn’t anything like the ugliness of those other memories.


	10. Chapter 10

Cas wakes up to Dean staring at him expectantly. When Dean sees he’s awake, he pounces.

“I can give you your present today!” he says with the excitement of a child on Christmas morning.

“Tonight,” Cas smiles indulgently.

“Tonight is part of today… what about right now?” He’s hovering over Cas, and the sun pouring in from the open curtain makes his eyes look like a nebula, swirling with energy and light. He’s never been this excited to give Cas anything, and it’s endearing and achingly sweet.

“That’s cheating. You can wait until tonight.”

“I caaaaan’t!” he whines. “Let’s have birthday _pancakes_ , Cas. I’ll put frosting and candles on them and everything!”

“Sorry, but we’re having people over tonight,” Cas reminds him.

“Then I’ll just give it to you now and you can _act_ surprised! Come on, you can do that! Please? You’re a good actor.” Dean shakes Cas’ bare shoulders.

Despite the pleasure he gets from seeing Dean beg (and in bed hanging on to his shoulders, no less), twelve years of friendship makes him want to tease him, so he grins widely and says, “No, I’m a terrible actor, I’ve told you that. You’ll just have to wait.”

“Nooooo,” Dean howls, collapsing.

“Yeeees,” Cas mimics, then says, “Hey, what kind of birthday gift are you offering me, _honey_?”

Dean has sprawled himself across Cas’ bare chest in his pleading. “Shit, fuck!” he sputters as he backs off before disappearing altogether. Cas laughs uproariously when he looks over the side of the bed to see a blushing, bed-headed Dean, tangled in sheets and looking like a raccoon after a fall off the edge of a trash can. He’s still laughing when they walk into the kitchen together. The others smile warmly at them.

“Birthday pancakes,” Cas smirks to Dean when Mary places the toasty flapjacks in front of them.

“I’m not giving you your gift now,” Dean pretends to pout.

“Well no, not here, that would be very inappropriate,” he replies with mischief, and Dean shoves his shoulder.

“Shut up,” he says without heat. The two speak in a secret, silent shared language that makes them laugh for half of breakfast before they settle down. When the time comes to discuss the plans for the day, Mary, not having been to the beach in several years, decides it would be a perfect day to go with her sons and their partners. Dean reminds her they aren’t really partners, but she says she’s just keeping up with the story.

“Put on sunscreen before we leave,” she reminds them. “It’s only effective if you put it on thirty minutes before sun exposure!” Her sons grumble but agree, understanding her caution since losing a friend to skin cancer. Mary tosses tubes of high-SPF sunblock to her boys, and the pairs rub sunscreen on the parts their partners cannot reach. When Dean finishes applying sunscreen to Cas’ back (and there is a reason they have the spray-on stuff back home, so Dean doesn’t have to _touch_ _him like that_ ), Cas turns around to face his friend and asks him to apply a little more to his shoulders because they tend to burn (which is true, as Dean has noticed all the times he wasn’t supposed to be noticing). When Dean places his hands on Cas’ shoulders, Cas pretends to scramble back and throws himself to the floor.

“Oh, _fuck you_!” Dean laughs and kicks him, while Cas giggles uncontrollably, a treat that Mary, Sam and Sarah rarely get to see. They laugh at the friends’ antics and don’t question what they’re talking about – they figure they wouldn’t understand it anyway.

Despite living in California, it’s been a long time since Dean has been to the beach. Beaches aren’t really his thing. Cas hits them up occasionally on a day off, but his tan (and need for spray-on sunscreen) comes mostly from his running routine.

“You are so _tan_!” Sarah notices when Cas pulls off his shirt after they spread out their blankets.

“That’s all that bullshit running he does,” Dean jokes. Cas playfully gives him the finger, and Dean goads him by saying, “ _with his shirt off_. He’s just showing off for the neighborhood ladies, though… and that guy Pablo down the street. And everyone on the Stanford campus.” Cas rolls his eyes and sticks up his other middle finger and Dean snickers. Pablo and the ladies of their neighborhood – and probably much of the student body of Stanford – often appreciatively watch Cas running by, whether t-shirted or bare. He can’t blame them, especially not when he’s appreciatively watching Cas right now.

The beach is a lot of fun, much to Dean’s surprise. Dean goofs around with his brother like when they were kids and bathes in the sun with his mom and Sarah. He actually has a better time than he expects, and it’s probably (definitely) because Cas goes along with Dean’s plan for _intimate physical demonstration_ (because “We’re in public, never know who’s out there, Cas,” to which he replied, “Of course, Dean”). Holding Cas’ hand while walking the beach and kissing him while they wait in line for burgers is pretty fuckin’ awesome and confusing as all hell. His heart doesn’t understand why it can’t have this all the time, and his brain tries to explain it but is losing the argument.

On the ride home, happily exhausted after a day outside, Cas’ mind floats to Dean. He is pressed up against Cas, sun-kissed and water-worn, a few grains of sand sticking to the inside of his arm and his hair strongly resembling the bird’s nest in one of the trees in their yard back home. _Back home_ , he thinks. Cas isn’t sure how he’s going to do this all week and not do this once they leave. He thought it would be easy. They are already so close – close enough so people already think they’re together – and he assumed that pretending to be wouldn’t make a difference. But the more you tell your brain something, the more it believes it, and when you give it evidence like Dean’s strong, solid hand in his or the taste of orange soda on his lips (and oh, it had been dangerous to slip his tongue out to taste it just that little bit more, and he’d had to pull back lest Dean figure him out), the brain goes where the evidence leads – or _his_ brain does, anyway. Scientists follow the evidence. But the evidence is faulty, he knows, and it hurts because the experiment will come to a conclusion soon and the hypothesis _Dean loves Cas as much as Cas loves Dean_ will not be proven. He leans his head against Dean’s and closes his eyes.

Fish has been grilled on cedar planks and fresh fruits and vegetables have been arranged on the table when Bobby arrives for the birthday celebration, followed shortly after by Ellen, Jo, and Missouri. Dinner is eaten and conversation is spirited. Gifts are given to Mary – a watch from Dean, art supplies from Sam and Sarah, lessons at the art shop from Cas, money from the others – and she loves them all. She teases Dean about the watch and his “detour” to the engagement rings, and Dean jokes that if he hadn’t detoured then he might still be waiting for Cas to pop the question. Jo asks Cas how he proposed, and Dean makes warning faces at him as he begins to tell the story. Cas winks at Dean and doesn’t mention the first version of things, instead saying simply that he asked and Dean agreed. Dean expands on the story and everyone oohs and awws at Cas’ romantic proposal. Dean watches as Cas flushes slightly. He tells the group he isn’t much of a romantic and can’t usually come up with the type of beautiful words one is supposed to use for a proposal, so he had planned out the moment for years to make sure he said the right thing. Dean bites his lip as Cas looks at him shyly, and he’s not sure how much more of this he can take without spilling his heart all over Cas’ lap. Cas is too convincing, and Dean wants to believe every word. Bobby grumbles about “all the damn love in here” and Ellen smacks his arm. It’s enough to break the moment, and Mary decides it’s time for Cas to receive his gifts.

Dean is in a trance as Cas opens cards with money from Missouri, Ellen and Jo, some sort of gadget from Bobby that Cas had admired the last time they were at the man’s house, new clothes from Mary, including a t-shirt with a tie screen-printed onto it (“my new Monday wardrobe,” he comments with glee), and a flying lesson at a local company from Sam and Sarah, learning to fly being something Cas has wanted to do for a long time. Finally, it is time for Dean’s gift, and he snaps out of his reverie and presents Cas with a large box and a larger smile.

“This is intriguing, Dean,” Cas grins as he opens it. There’s a slightly smaller box. Cas opens a series of nested boxes until he is left with a thick letter-size envelope in his hand. He glances up at Dean, who’s wearing a megawatt smile. “This was a lot of work to wrap a gift certificate,” Cas teases, earning a gentle swat to the side of his head for his joke. He slides his finger carefully under the envelope flap and pulls out the sheaf of papers inside. Dean stares, his smile faltering a bit as Cas studies the information in his hands. The room is silent.

“Dean,” he rasps finally, “are you serious?”

“Well, yeah, of course I’m serious!” Dean starts to squirm, rubbing his palms together and wondering if he made a mistake. He says hesitantly, “I mean, if you want it…”

“Oh, Dean. Dean, this is…” Cas leaps from his chair and pulls his best friend into a long embrace. Dean can feel Cas trembling, and he’s not sure what’s happening but holding him close is the best feeling in the world.

“Well, what is it?” Bobby asks gruffly.

Cas separates from Dean but still holds him around the neck, and his smile lights up his face. “The Tweety Birds,” Cas laughs as he looks at Dean, who’s laughing too. “The Canary Islands,” he clarifies to Bobby and the others as he lets go of Dean. “Dean bought a trip to the Canary Islands to see the observatory at Teide National Park. It’s a wonderful place for stargazing, and I’ve never been. I love to travel.” He smiles goofily down at the papers in his hands.

“For two?” Bobby asks with a curious squint. He knows Dean’s aversion to flying.

Dean feels gooey eyes on the two of them, so he shifts and quickly says, “Yeah, but uh, he can bring whoever he wants.” Cas looks up at him then and Dean continues to Cas, “I mean, you can bring anyone – your dad, one of your nerdy astronomy friends, or me, or…”

Cas seizes upon Dean’s words. “You’d come with me?”

“Uh, yeah, of course I would.” He shuffles nervously and tries not to reveal how much he’s thought about it.

Cas lays a gentle hand on Dean’s forearm. “Dean, it’s very far…”

“You’re not fuckin’ kidding,” Dean says, “It’s fifteen hours’ air time, minimum, but there are layovers and it’s mostly night flying and I called my doc and he said he’d give me some good meds and…”

The flustered words, the pink tinge of his cheekbones, the thought and effort he’d already put into something he knows Dean is very uneasy doing and the fact that he would do this for him – it’s all too much, and Cas surges forward to capture Dean’s mouth with his. He threads his fingers through Dean’s beach-blown hair and doesn’t hesitate with his tongue this time; he tastes strawberries and watermelon before he realizes what he’s doing and breaks their kiss. Dean is staring at him, slightly dazed, and Cas needs to cover this quickly before Dean becomes suspicious of his true intention. He curses himself silently for making the moment uncomfortable for his friend.

“Maybe you guys can make it your honeymoon!” Jo squeals, and Cas could kiss _her_ for reminding everyone in the room of their pretend engagement, about which he’d frankly forgotten until this moment. It was the perfect explanation for his outburst, and he goes with it.

“Now that’s an idea,” Cas murmurs. Dean hasn’t broken eye contact. “I want you to go with me,” he says to Dean. “I’ll show you your namesake, Rigel.”

“I’ll be there,” Dean whispers, and Cas smiles.

Cas’ reaction to the gift is everything that Dean hoped it would be and more, and it’s easy to imagine shooing everyone out so he can have Cas all to himself. During their kiss, it was easy to forget that Cas is just pretending to be in love with him. It felt so damn real. But he _is_ pretending, and Dean sighs to himself as he releases Cas and pastes on a smile to retrieve the cake from the kitchen. He reminds himself that Cas’ joy about the gift is real, at least, and he thinks Cas really does want him to go, so that little bit of happiness with Cas will have to be enough.


	11. Chapter 11

Cas’ eyes are shining in the sun filtering through the windows of the Impala. He is driving because Dean wanted him to, supposedly because he is tired after the beach day yesterday. The truth is that Dean wants to watch the excitement in Cas’ face as he gets closer to their destination, Celestial Aviation. Cas is usually such a sedate guy, an unflappable pillar against the winds of moodiness and chaos, that it’s fun to see him quiver with excitement.

A guy named Gabe is Cas’ instructor today. Dean thinks he’s the stepbrother of Michael, one of the jerks that harassed him in high school. He and Michael had been friends at first, and Michael was one of the few people who actually wanted to date him – openly, despite the attitudes of most of the student body – but Dean wasn’t interested in more than friendship and the guy couldn’t take a hint. Dean shakes himself out of the memory as Gabe talks to them. Gabe looks a little older than them, but Dean thinks he’s near the same age as Michael, though he never saw him at their school. Gabe is funny – a little wild for Cas’ taste perhaps, but Dean likes him. The pilot ruffles Cas’ hair like they’re old friends.

Dean is invited along for the flight. He tries to beg off until Gabe guilts him into it (“Dude, the guy who called said you have to go because this is your fiancé’s birthday gift!”) and Cas suggests that perhaps it is the lack of control that bothers Dean and that if he can see what’s happening in the cockpit he would feel better. Both arguments convince him enough to try, even if he’ll be white-knuckling it the whole way. He really does want to see the joy on Cas’ face when he’s flying. Gabe cajoles him into participating in ground school, and after thirty or so minutes of it (entirely too short, in Dean’s opinion), the plane is prepped for the flight.

Cas is pumped, Dean can tell, and he’s thrilled for his friend. The Cessna takes off smoothly and remains smooth, despite its reputation for being a bit of a rocky ride. Gabe leads them through the basics and allows Cas to pilot solo for a bit. Dean is sweating, but Cas was right – he feels somewhat better seeing the controls and the action ahead of him – and Cas looks so gloriously happy that Dean decides the anxiety is totally worth it. He snaps a few pictures of Cas and tries not to think that pilot Cas might be his new favorite fantasy.

“You wanna try, big boy?” Gabe turns and says to Dean.

“No fuckin’ way,” Dean says.

“Yes fucking way,” Cas says, and Dean already knows he’s going to lose the argument. Still, he tries.

“It’s your birthday gift, Cas.”

“Yes, and it would mean a lot to me if you tried this,” Cas retorts, and Dean is done arguing. Gabe takes over as Cas and Dean switch seats.

It’s way more fun than he expects.

“Woohoo!” Dean hollers a few minutes later. He loves the feeling of control over the large metal beast. It’s kind of like the power he feels driving his beloved car, but even more badass.

“Told you you’d love it,” Dean hears Cas through the headphones, and Dean grins brightly at him in time for Cas to snap a few pictures of his own.

On the ground and out of the plane, Dean and Cas embrace. They walk with arms slung around each other and talk animatedly about their flight. Returning their equipment, Dean sees a familiar face down a long hallway and freezes. Michael, standing in a doorway speaking to someone, turns and catches Dean’s eyes. Sensing a problem, Cas looks in the same direction. His hackles raise and he subtly stands between Dean and Michael.

“Let’s go,” Dean mumbles before they hear, “Dean! Castiel! Please wait!”

“Up to you,” Cas murmurs, and Dean gives a small nod as they turn to face Michael, who’s breathing a little harder than usual since he nearly sprinted down the hall.

“Thank you for waiting,” Michael says. It’s the last thing Dean expects to hear.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean says, trying to remain aloof. “How’ve you been?” he adds in habit.

“I’m well, thank you. How are you?”

“Great. We’re great.” He takes Cas’ hand in his, less for the “act” and more for comfort. Cas pumps his hand once in reassurance and retains his hold.

“Good. I’m really happy to hear that. Gabe told me that Castiel was coming for a lesson and I hoped you’d be here, too.” He stops and it’s silent for a moment before Michael licks his lips nervously and continues, “Dean, I know it’s over ten years too late, but I want to apologize to you. My behavior toward you in high school was inexcusable. I attempted to force you into affections you didn’t return, then I ridiculed you and even participated in physically assaulting you, all because I was so insecure and desperate. I was trying to figure out a lot of things about myself at that time, and you were nice to me and seemed open and I mistook that for something it wasn’t. I have spent many years feeling ashamed of myself for that.” Dean listens with rapt attention. He rarely gets apologies from anyone except for Cas, and those are rarely needed and rarely for anything of this significance. “I learned a lot from my talks with Castiel back then and the resources he gave me, and I want you to know I put them to good use. I’ve grown up a lot and I hope you can forgive me.” Dean flicks his thumb across Cas’ hand as if to say, “What the hell?” and Cas simply soothes Dean’s thumb with his own until he rests it against his warm, solid presence once again. It takes a moment for Dean to realize that Michael has stopped talking.

“It’s… yeah, I forgive you, it’s okay,” Dean says. It surprises him to realize he means it. “We’ve all done things we’re not proud of.”

“I appreciate your understanding and your forgiveness, truly,” Michael says. He extends a hand to Dean, who lets go of Cas’ hand to shake it before returning his hand to the comfort of Cas’. Dean feels a little lighter. He hadn’t realized how much of a burden the old high school crap had been. “I want to be a good example for my children.”

_Children?_ “Uh, you got kids, Mike?”

“Yes,” he confirms brightly, “twins. Adam and I were married a few years ago and had our boys by surrogate back in December. An early Christmas present.” The twinkle in his eyes and the fond smile convince Dean that yes, Michael really does seem much more comfortable with himself. Happy.

“Congratulations,” Dean and Cas say together.

“Thank you,” Michael laughs. “And congratulations to you two on your engagement.” At their confused looks, he says, “I saw it on Twitter,” and the three share a laugh Dean never would have thought possible.

After a few more pleasantries, they say their goodbyes and walk toward the Impala hand in hand.

“How are you doing?” Cas asks when they’re seated in the car and Dean is staring out the window, a hint of a smile on his face.

“I’m… really good, Cas.” Dean turns to his friend. “What was Mike talking about? When he said you talked to him?”

“Oh, I just talked to him about his behavior and gave him some resources,” Cas shrugs. “Local LGBTQ organization, counselors and other people he could talk to, that sort of thing.”

Dean eyes him skeptically. “And he took that? No argument?”

“No argument.”

Dean knows he’s hiding some detail. “Cas.”

Cas relents. “I told him that it would benefit his life greatly if he availed himself of the multiple resources being offered so that he did not live a life of misery.” When Dean raises an eyebrow, Cas finishes sheepishly, “I also may have told him that he needed to leave you alone or I would fuck him up six ways from Sunday.”

“Cas! Shit, man!” Dean cackles.

“I said it as sensitively as I could,” Cas defends, and Dean believes him. He’s looking out the passenger window, and Dean gazes at him with fondness and a sudden, painful spark of longing.

“Hey,” he says, voice heavy with the emotion of the day as he bumps Cas’ hand with his own. Cas turns to face him. “I know I don’t say this much, but thanks for, you know, everything you do for me.”

“You say that as if it’s some sort of burden,” Cas says quietly.

“It…”

“It is _not_ ,” Cas cuts Dean off. “It’s what you do for people you love.” He drapes his hand over Dean’s and gives it a brief, light squeeze before letting go, and Dean tries to quell the leaping of his gut. “But if you want to even the score, you can buy me a milkshake.”

“Chocolate?”

“Is there any other kind?”

“You got it,” Dean grins. He turns on the radio and sings loudly to drown out his thundering heartbeat, still rolling at Cas’ use of the word love.

Cas sings along just as loudly, trying to drown out the sound of his own.


	12. Chapter 12

Dean’s plan for today is to go fishing with his Uncle Bobby and Sam, then meet up with Cas at the high school later. He’s filming a special “high school reunion” video for his show and Dean admits he’s excited to see the old lab room again, as well as to see Cas in action. They’ve invited a few high school students to be on camera with him, and Dean knows that Cas will be in his element. He sneaks around the room gathering his things and opens the door to head down to the bathroom. Realizing he forgot his toiletry bag, he turns around and hurries to grab it off the dresser. His plan to be quiet so as not to wake Cas goes awry when he slams his foot into the claw foot of said dresser. He curses and hops in place on one foot.

“You’re going to be the loudest person at your own funeral,” Cas grumbles into Dean’s pillow, which he grabbed when Dean rolled out of bed.

“Shut up, I am not,” he whines as he rubs his toes. “Son of a bitch, that hurt. Fuckin’ dresser.”

“Shall I call in the surgical team? For the amputation?”

“Har, har.”

“Do you want me to get your mommy so she can kiss it and make it better?”

“Gonna make _you_ kiss it if you don’t shut up.”

Cas scoffs, and Dean jumps on the bed, sitting near him and sneaking his foot past the blankets near Cas’ nose. Cas lets out a startled cry at the intrusion and slaps his foot away, making Dean even more persistent.

“Kiss it!”

“No!”

“You know you wanna!”

“Not my thing.”

“Come on, I nearly broke my foot trying to keep quiet for you!”

“And what a fine job you did at keeping quiet.”

“I am _injured_ because of you, and under the laws… that uh… under the laws that govern injuries, you are obligated to kiss it and make it feel better, no matter where the injury is located!”

“Well, when you slam your dick in a dresser trying to keep quiet for me, let me know and I’ll be glad to help you.”

Dean stops suddenly. Dirty jokes aside, they’ve never done a lot of sexualized talk between them (Dean has avoided it because it just gets him riled up for something he can’t have), and _that_ was decidedly sexual. As Dean thinks it over, it seems it’s been happening a little more here and there. He hadn’t put it all together before now. He gulps and tries to come up with some sort of response.

“Ah, peace and quiet, finally,” Cas says triumphantly into the pillow, and Dean can hear the smirk in his voice. He yanks the pillow from the floor that Cas had tossed aside in favor of Dean’s and straddles Cas in order to get better access and restrict the man’s movement as he beats him mercilessly.

“The rules of fighting govern that you need to give your opponent a chance to wield his weapon!” Cas cries between smacks to his head. Dean and Cas play-fight often back home, enough so that they actually did make some rules about it.

“The rules of fighting don’t apply here!” Dean crows with delight. Sneak attacks aren’t uncommon at their house, either, though usually more of the wet finger in the ear or bucket of cold water in the shower variety than the pillow variety.

Cas is strong and bucks his hips enough to turn onto his back and face him, fighting back with the pillow he’d been using. Their aggression quickly dissolves into the breathy laughter of exhaustion and spontaneity, and Dean looms over Cas with his arms on either side of his torso and calls a truce. Cas agrees as they stare at each other’s heaving chests and shining eyes.

“Are you guys done now? My alarm wasn’t going off for another half hour,” Sam asks grumpily. Dean and Cas turn to the voice in the doorway and see an audience – Sam and Sarah, looking sleepy and a little irritated, Mary, holding her phone and smiling, and Bobby, feigning scorn but looking amused. They mumble apologies and Dean gathers his things to head for the shower.

“Keep it down with the foreplay,” Sam goads as Dean jostles through the crowd. Dean’s toiletry bag lands with a _thwap_ on Sam’s bicep. He’s embarrassed, not sure of how much they heard and knowing that his feelings _must_ be showing on his face yet again, if his burning face is any indication. He’s also a bit curious as to whether that pillow fight indeed could have led to more. _Wishful thinking_ , he sighs and adds the feeling of Cas’ hips bucking underneath him into his spank bank.

  
Sarah returns to bed, but Cas sits in the kitchen with Sam, Mary and Bobby. The conversation is warm and easy, and Dean loves that Cas fits into his family so well. Dean pulls out a chair and sits to tie his sneakers and Cas slides his coffee to Dean, “since you’d take mine anyway.” What can he say? Cas’ always tastes better. In thanks, Dean scrambles some eggs, peppers and onions together for the four of them. Bobby toasts some bread and Mary fills juice glasses while Cas tops off everyone’s coffees. The early hour makes the conversation hushed, and it’s the perfect way for Dean to start a peaceful day of fishing.

Cas will be fishing too, but a different kind.

Bobby and Dean load Bobby’s truck with Dean’s and Sam’s gear as Cas stretches in preparation for his run. His shorts seem shorter and snugger than usual, and his running shirt clings to his back and defines the fantastic muscles Dean knows are under there. As he usually does, Dean hassles him about keeping up his manly physique, but as he says, “Looking good, Cas,” it sounds too close to the truth and makes him want to crawl and hide under the truck. Now he feels self-conscious so he rushes to add, “I mean, your cardiovascular system must be top notch, man,” and makes it so much worse. He hears Sam snicker behind him; Cas tilts his head and stares as he tries to piece together Dean’s words, which made no sense. “I’m tired, man,” is the excuse Dean eventually mutters for his odd behavior, and it’s good enough for Cas because he wraps his hand around the nape of Dean’s neck and pulls him down, kissing the top of his head. “Have fun, Rigel. Love you,” he smiles before turning and heading down the street. Dean’s eyes follow his movement until he rounds a corner and disappears.

“Lovesick much, boy?” Bobby says behind him. Dean rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it. There’s no point. As he climbs into the truck he remembers that he is _supposed_ to look that way in front of Bobby, since they’re supposed to be a couple. He mourns the lost opportunity to kiss Cas full on the mouth. For the act, of course (or not). And though the three men don’t discuss it as they enjoy their morning of peaceful waters and the occasional catch, kissing Cas is never far from his mind.

***

A sense of home soaks into Cas as he pulls open the door to the dojo. He's spent many hours, many days, many years at this place. It smells of sweat and sandalwood.

He takes his place in the back of the room, behind the other students here for their usual Thursday morning class. It's a slower class designed for older adults, but Cas doesn't mind. These classes are more meditative. In the busyness of the past several days, a little meditation isn't a bad idea.

Steven Cho, a tall, 60-something man with graying hair and lively eyes, takes his place at the front of the room. His wife, Anne, a diminutive powerhouse, stands near him. Their marriage of nearly 40 years is one Cas emulates; they are partners in every sense of the word. They see him, but do not seem surprised. They smile and bend slightly in a small bow that he returns.

The class is taken through some warm-up movements and then moves into the lesson. Toward the end, Steven says, "Castiel, would you like to put on a show for the class?" He says it with barely concealed mirth, and Anne smiles like a proud mother bird watching her babies launch from the nest. Cas has missed them dearly. When he approaches, Anne reaches out in the pretense of a hug and slams him to the floor. He expected it, but it still knocks the wind out of him. He quickly regains his wits and pulls her down into a series of complicated holds before turning to Steven. They spar, and the audience cheers when the show is over.

A few people chat with Castiel, recognizing him either from the television show or from his time growing up here. When they disperse, he is left alone with his longtime teachers, his second family.

"Castiel, baby," Anne coos as she pulls him into her arms. Steven adds himself to the embrace. Castiel allows himself to relax in their cocoon.

“Mama-san, Papa-san,” he says, eyes and nose prickling with emotion. He’s been calling them these names since he was a six-year-old who thought he was speaking Japanese when he called them that. They thought it was adorable and never discouraged him, so it stuck.

They catch up on the goings-on at the dojo and Anne and Steven's latest trip, a 10-day tour of Iceland they just returned from the day before. They look remarkably unruffled from several hours of travel and the inevitable jet lag, but then they always look unruffled. Castiel learned serenity from them. They apologize for missing Cas’ birthday celebration and he waves it off.

"Now, what is this we hear about an engagement?" Anne asks with a teasing lilt.

"You saw the picture?" Castiel asks rather than confirming the engagement.

"Mary shared it with us," Anne explains. Cas rolls his eyes affectionately. He should have known. Anne and Mary became friends after a class she took there, and now they both mother Castiel like it’s an Olympic sport. He likes it. "You must be very excited. You have loved him for a long time."

Castiel breathes deeply and smiles. "I have loved him for a long time," he agrees.

Steven and Anne gaze at him appraisingly. "There's a lie behind your truth, Castiel," Anne notes. Castiel drops his head and stares at a knot in the wood floor. He has never been able to lie to them, even with lies of omission. He sits cross-legged on the floor and swears them to secrecy before he spills the entire story. When he finishes, Anne rubs his back and says, "There is truth in the lie, too, isn't there? You do love him. You want to commit your lives to each other."

"Why hasn’t it happened, son?" Steven asks gently.

Castiel plays with the ring on his finger. "He doesn't want that."

"Oh, I disagree," Steven says and looks at his wife knowingly. Anne rises gracefully and returns with her phone.

"That is the look of a man in love," Steven points out as they look at the pictures in Anne’s phone. It's a series of candids taken at the birthday celebration the other night, before and just after Dean had given Cas his gift. Mary must have sent them.

"I know. It's written all over my face," Castiel sighs.

"Not yours, Castiel. His."

Cas shakes his head sadly. "No..."

"Look at the evidence, Castiel," Anne urges. She has long understood the way his mind works. Whether that’s because of her many years as a psychologist or her many years of knowing him, he’s not sure. "His soft eyes, his body positioning, his mirrored response to your actions... look at this one... and this one," she scrolls through a few photos, pulling up both newer and older ones, "and look at this." She pulls up a video and lets it play.

"She recorded that?" Cas groans.

"Mary thought it was adorable," Anne confirms as they watch Cas and Dean's pillow fight from that morning. "Now watch. See? Open posture, open facial expressions, non-threatening movements..."

"He was hitting me and pinning me down."

"That was play and you know it. If you felt threatened, you would have dispatched him easily," Steven scoffs.

"And here," Anne continues, "see the way he's leaning in toward you. Friends keep a certain amount of space between them, family less so. But intimate partners allow the least amount of space between them, and these sorts of gestures and eye contact are generally reserved for intimate partners."

He's afraid to see what they see; he’s afraid it's a product of too much hope.

"People place hope in much less than this," Anne says as if reading his mind. "Evidence is good for the mind, Castiel, but hope and faith are good for the soul."

After a moment of thoughtful silence, the three stand and Cas grips them tightly in a hug. "Thank you, I love you," he whispers. He lets them go and gathers his bag, wishing them well and telling them he’ll talk to them soon.

"Oh hey, can I ask you about something?" Cas turns and asks, nearly forgetting the other reason he came today – his little “fishing” expedition. "You have Lisa renting space?"

They pause at the office door. "Yes, Lisa Taggart. A little intense, but a nice woman," Steven says. "Why?"

"Uh, well, actually, do you remember the name Lisa Braeden?" At their stormy faces, he continues, "Yeah, same person."

Anne places her hands on her hips. "Oh honey, I will kick her ass right out of here," Anne swears in a rare moment of fury. They remember well the pain she inflicted on Castiel.

"No bloodshed is necessary," Cas assures them with a chuckle and a placating hand. "People change. I just wanted to know if she was one of them."

"She was married, divorced now, has a son," Steven answers. "We don't talk with her a lot, but she seems polite and pays her rent. A little gossipy but that's all."

Cas nods. As long as she's treating them well, he has no complaints. People do change, after all. Perhaps ten years made a difference.

"Dean? Are you here?" an excited, familiar voice calls into the dojo. It darkens considerably when the owner of that voice sees Cas.

Cas makes eye contact and nods in her direction. "Hello, Lisa."

"Casteel," she sneers, and he doesn't bother to correct her. She doesn’t seem to notice Steven and Anne in the doorway of the office. "What are you doing here?" He looks down at his gi, then back at her and raises his eyebrows.

“Whatever,” she huffs, apparently making the connection between his clothing and his purpose for being at the dojo. “Where’s Dean?”

He squints at her. “Not here,” he says slowly, as if explaining something to a child.

“The Impala’s here.”

“Yes. It is.”

“So where is _he_?” she huffs again.

“Elsewhere,” Castiel answers, monotone. He can tell she’s becoming frustrated, and he’s secretly delighted.

“Then what the hell is his car doing here? He wouldn’t just leave it,” Lisa argues.

“I drove it here?” Castiel remarks, voicing the statement with a questioning lilt to highlight the absurdity of her line of questioning.

“You’re using his car.”

“I’m using _our_ car,” he smirks, holding up the keys.

“Bullshit. He doesn’t let anyone drive his car.”

“People change, Lisa,” Castiel says calmly as he shoulders his bag. “Most people,” he says, eyes staring intensely at her. “Shall I pass him a message? Perhaps while we’re lying in bed tonight?”

Her eyes grow cold. “I know how to contact him. Don’t do me any favors,” she snarls.

“Okie-dokie!” he smiles widely and winks. He jangles the car keys as he passes her. “Bye Mama-san, bye Papa-san!” he calls over his shoulder as he leaves. He usually doesn’t engage in pettiness, but this time it feels damn good. He makes sure to rev the engine and wave as he drives away.

***

Cas meets up with Dean and Mary in the lobby of their old high school.

"It's so weird to be back here," Dean comments as he peers into the trophy case. "Damn, someone beat Benny's record."

"I'm sure he weeps about it daily," Cas murmurs as he peeks at the baseball plaque. Danny Cain had beaten Benny's batting average three years ago. "How often does he mention it to you?"

"Approximately never," Dean answers. He hasn't seen Benny in several years, but they keep up on Facebook. He's one of the people Dean's excited to see on Saturday.

"Shocking," Cas says with sarcasm.

Dean turns to him with a gleam in his eyes. “Race you,” he says before taking off.

“Hey!” Cas yells after him. To the chagrin of most of the faculty, Cas and Dean often had raced through the halls, just for fun. Now, as adults and with no students crowding the halls, Cas shoves Dean into a bank of lockers and runs the other way. Dean does the same moments later. They wrestle playfully along the walls and Mary watches with fondness.

 _We need this_ , Dean thinks. So much of their time and energy has been focused on everyone else this vacation that they’ve hardly had a chance to just _be_. Even though his love for Cas is driving him mad, he treasures his friendship with him and has missed just goofing around. Being at the school has reminded him of the way they started and all the good that has followed. Breathless, they finally make their way back to Mary and the lobby.

"Victor! Jody!" Cas calls. Dean looks up to see Mr. Henrikson, one of their physics teachers, ambling down another hall side-by-side with another one of their physics teachers, Ms. Mills.

"Boys!" Ms. Mills says as she hugs them. Mr. Henrikson shakes each of their hands heartily.

"Dean, it's Jody now," she chides when Dean greets her. "Everyone's a grownup here." Dean blushes slightly but forces himself to greet her again by her first name.

"The kids are so excited to meet you," Jody tells Cas as she leads them down the hall. Dean, Mary and Victor are following just behind them, talking about the latest crop of students. As they round the corner, excited voices grow louder, reaching an apex just before they turn into the lab. At their entrance, the room hushes. Several youth and a few adults swivel their heads toward the door.

"Hi," Cas says with a little wave. The high school students – six girls and four boys taking part in a STEM summer camp at the local community college – wave in return, while the adults smile and nod. Cas politely acknowledges the adults (his set-up, makeup and film guys and two others whose name badges identify them as camp leaders) but quickly moves to engage the students, introducing himself and explaining the project they'll be doing that day: building cubesats that they'll use to monitor atmospheric changes. Cas and his crew will come back later in the school year to follow their progress. The filming will end with a question and answer session with Cas, which Cas questions with a raise of his left eyebrow but doesn't comment on. The make-up guy slathers a quick layer of make-up on Cas’ face and scrunches a little styling putty in his hair before leaving him alone.

"Okay, who wants to pick the music?" Cas asks the young group. It's a fact well-known to Cas' fans that he usually makes his guests dance to music with him to loosen them up. Most people, including Cas, are uncomfortable with it – which is the point, according to him. The reserved-by-nature man says that being a scientist involves taking risks, so he challenges himself and expects others to do the same. He knows he’s a hypocrite about this in terms of expressing his love for Dean, but reminds himself that he’s working on it.

"I do!" an enthusiastic brunette replies. She looks as if she had been hoping he'd ask. He gives her his phone and she scrolls through his music. "Ooh, throwback!" she calls out as she begins the song. Three other girls squeal and say something about remembering this song from when they were "young and awkward."

"What, three years ago?" Dean mutters, feeling old all of a sudden. He complains loudly when he realizes what song it is.

"Cas, damn it!" he shouts as he watches Cas working with the students to choreograph a simple dance to go with the song.

"I didn’t pick it!" he laughs as they work their way through the first chorus, limbs flailing in different directions. The camera operator is walking around them, filming the dance for outtakes usually inserted at the end of the show.

"Friggin' boy bands, never let me live it down," he mutters to himself as Cas and the students dance to One Direction. He hummed along to this song _once_ in the car when it _happened_ to come on the radio, and Cas played it at home for _weeks_. He can't stay annoyed, though, because he does secretly like the song (damn him) and the mood in the room is buoyant. Everyone else is laughing and Cas is making himself look like a fool on purpose to make a couple of the shyer kids more comfortable, which is typical Cas. He’s having more difficulty than usual dragging his eyes off the man, clad this afternoon in his black Converse shoes, his ass-hugging galaxy-print jeans, and his black “Defy Expectations” t-shirt with the backwards writing that hugs his biceps just right. Now Cas is shouting the lyrics and the shy kids join in along with Jody, Victor and Mary, who get dragged into the melee. Cas slings an arm around Mary’s waist and teaches her the dance, and Dean hears some sort of joke about dancing with her future son-in-law. By the second chorus they seem to have the hang of their impromptu line dance, and it reminds Dean of the flash mobs that were popular a few years ago. Dean’s so absorbed in watching the synchronized movements Cas created that he doesn’t really notice the man himself prowling toward him until it’s too late.

Cas wraps his arms around Dean’s neck and mouths the words – something about waking up beside him and having no control, and he’s pretty sure there’s a loaded gun euphemism in there somewhere, but he can’t concentrate because Cas’ body presses against him and he’s pretty sure he’s gonna be the one with no control in a minute. His eyes are bright and his grin is teasing and he’s so, so close, and although they’ve been their usual “friend zone” selves the entire afternoon Dean is really regretting not kissing him this morning... but there are kids and cameras and former teachers and what he really wants is for them both to want this for real, so he drops into less dangerous territory and back into the ease of their friendship. He clutches Cas’ t-shirt above his hips and obnoxiously sings the second part of the chorus with Cas instead, letting Cas move them around to the up-tempo beat in some exaggerated, herky-jerky form of dance. When the song is over, Cas hesitates a little before planting a long, hard kiss on Dean’s cheek and turning quickly again to the group. Dean feels the ghost of his hot breath on his face long after Cas leaves and the friendship train has left the station once again.

They begin filming and Cas does his introduction of his guests and of the project of the day. The students ask questions before they begin on the project, and Cas is answering them steadily (and correctly) when he stops suddenly and says, “Doctor Winchester? Would you be willing to participate?” The request surprises Dean but he agrees, despite his attire of cargo shorts, sneakers, and a Metallica t-shirt that he hopes doesn’t smell like fish.

“Doctor Winchester is a mechanical engineer,” Cas explains, and goes on to tell the students and the presumed audience at home about the work of mechanical engineers and how they complement the work of other scientists, including astrophysicists. While he’s explaining, the make-up guy readies Dean, then pushes him gently into the lab area.

The segment is easy and fun. He’s never gotten to work with Cas and it reminds him just how much he admires his passion, skill, and intelligence. The students are eager and smart, and Dean understands why getting young people interested in STEM is appealing to him. Too soon, they wrap up the projects and it’s Q and A time. Dean bows out gracefully and Mary hugs him and chatters on about how proud she is of him and his “debut.” It’s only then that it occurs to Dean that he’ll be on screen for who knows how many people to see. _Embarrassing_. He really wishes he’d taken the time to change when they got back from the lake.

They set up chairs in a semicircle, and Cas and the kids settle down for the Q and A. They begin to ask him questions that sound forced and crafted by adults. He had a feeling this whole thing would be contrived, so he decides to do something about it. He holds up a hand to pause one of the students. “Is this the stuff you really want to know?” At their blank looks, he says, “You know, you can ask anything. Your questions are boring.”

“Boxers or briefs?” the enthusiastic brunette, Meg, asks. The adults are horrified, and the rest of the kids look like they’re waiting to be scolded. One of the camp leaders says her name in warning, but Cas laughs.

“Boxer briefs,” he answers, “except on Mondays, when I have my meetings. I already have to wear a suit, so I’m restricted enough.” Her eyes widen, and the kids stifle giggles.

“You don’t seriously go commando on Mondays, Doctor Novak,” Dean shouts off-camera without thinking. Cas simply winks at him slowly, and Dean feels the blush creep into his cheeks.

The question opens up a floodgate of others, from whether there’s really sentient life in other galaxies to conspiracy theories about the moon landing to how he decides what color to dye his hair.

“How do you just not care about what other people think?” one of the boys asks, a little agitated. Cas asks him to clarify. “I mean, you just do what you want and you act weird and you’re gay. Any one of those things would get my ass kicked.” He sounds like he’s speaking from experience, so Cas treads carefully.

“I’m bisexual,” Cas corrects, “and I wasn’t always rebellious. I was a rule-follower for most of my childhood. I kept my head down and I focused on my studies. I used to be very quiet – I still am, but then I used it as an excuse to not engage. There were things happening around me – life was happening around me, and I was hiding from it by convincing myself that in focusing all my efforts on science I was seeking a higher purpose, a higher calling. But really, I was just avoiding myself, avoiding things that I really wanted because I felt I couldn’t have them because my purpose was so much more important.

“Then something happened at school that changed all that. My studies were still important, but I found another calling, one that had a greater pull.” He glances at Dean. “I found my best friend, and we just brought out the best in each other. He made me want things for myself that I never thought I could or should have, and I think I did the same for him. So I expanded my horizons, if you will. The more I did it, the more I saw the interconnectedness of things. When I limited my worldview, I limited not only myself and my own growth as a person, but I limited my mind’s ability to think beyond its own limits. I had boxed myself in, and I finally climbed out of the box. Incidentally, once I broke out, it actually helped my work, and I had the added benefit of feeling better about myself.

“And people did try to kick my ass, but they quickly found out that I would defend myself and that I didn’t care about their opinions, and they lost interest, for the most part.”

The boy looks at him with a little sense of wonder.

“But how does a girl do that? There’s a huge bias against girls in sciences,” another girl, Calla, asks.

“I’ve never been female, so I cannot speak to that experience exactly. I recognize that, despite how ‘weird’ I am, I am a white male and that has likely made a difference for me. I agree in our society it is less common for females to be in the sciences, which I think is a tragedy. Some women hid for years under pseudonyms and initials, and even those who didn’t are less acknowledged in the textbooks than their male counterparts. So how do you get to be where you want to be? I say you keep doing it. Keep taking classes, keep talking, keep finding people who believe in you. Take risks. Will it be harder for you? Perhaps. But things won’t change if nobody pushes the envelope. And remember, sometimes we keep ourselves in those boxes, too. Don’t keep yourselves in there.”

He shifts and addresses all of them. “I know lots of people are interested in your futures, about how you can keep your grades up and go to the best schools, become great scientists and do great things. Maybe that’s what you want, too, and maybe not. I can talk to all of you about how to be the best scientists you can be. I can talk to you about developing an analytical mind, about the importance of proper research methods and objectivity and about questioning everything and not dismissing evidence if it doesn’t fit with your hypothesis. These are all important, but I don’t want to be the person who tells you how to be a great something. I want to tell you to be a person first, the best person you can be. Figure out what makes you tick, what excites you, your strengths and weaknesses and biases, what makes you feel alive. Do things out of your comfort zone sometimes so you can grow, but don’t stray so far into what others say you should be that you forget who you are. Find your tribe. Laugh, make mistakes, fall in love. If you focus on being a person first, everything else will follow.”

Now all the kids, as well as the adults, are watching him. He can feel Dean’s eyes on him and he knows he has to talk to Dean soon. His fear has kept him boxed.

“And for God’s sake,” he says to lighten the mood, “don’t attempt to be the expert at everything. Let yourself be stupid and clueless sometimes. Let others teach you things. Nobody likes a know-it-all.” The kids and adults laugh and the seriousness fades, and Dean didn’t think he could fall any more in love but he is proven wrong once again.

“That was quite a speech there, Sunshine,” Dean says as they’re leaving the school. “Tony Robbins should be calling you for advice for his talks.” Cas shrugs shyly. He hadn’t planned on that whole spiel, but with the pressures of the week it came pouring out. His head vibrates like an exposed nerve.

“Inspiring youth, it’s what I do,” Cas deadpans.

They reach their cars, parked next to each other in the lot, and Mary assumes Dean will head back with Cas. She gives them some privacy as she slips into her vehicle and drives out of the lot toward home. Cas’ face matches the sky, which threatens rain.

“Hey, bud, you okay?” Dean asks quietly. He grips Cas in a show of support, absently rubbing the vein in the fold of his arm.

“Yeah,” he breathes, suddenly tired. What he wouldn’t give to curl into Dean now, to burrow into the curves of his body, for Dean to hold him with the strength and tenderness he knows he possesses. If he asked Dean to hold him he would do it, he knows he would. But Cas doesn’t want Best Friend Dean; he wants Lover Dean, Partner Dean, and that doesn’t exist right now. “Just tired,” he mumbles, rubbing his face in his hands.

“I’m sorry I’ve made this a weird vacation for you,” Dean frowns, drawing his friend into an awkward hug, since Cas’ arms are pinned between them.

“You haven’t. I have,” Cas says, immediately regretting his choice of words.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Just… I just… ugh, never mind, please. I’m not feeling particularly coherent,” he speaks into his hands.

“I hear ya,” Dean laughs. “Seeing everyone is great and all, but you know what we need? Downtime. Tomorrow, let’s sleep late and make English muffin pizzas and sit around in our pajamas all day.”

“God, that sounds great,” Cas exhales, dropping his hands and returning Dean’s hug in earnest. Dean always knows exactly what he needs. _Well, almost always_ , Cas sighs and then draws the woodsy scent of aftershave and the very faint, barely noticeable scent of – eww, is that fish? – into his nose. Cas tries and fails to stifle a tired chuckle.

“What?” Dean asks as he pulls back. Cas’ head stays on his shoulder.

“You wore this shirt to go fishing, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, why? Do I stink?”

“No more than usual,” Cas jokes, lifting his head and looking at Dean with an amused tilt.

“Ha ha,” Dean says. He grins and then pulls his shirt collar up to his nose. “Aw, man, somebody should’ve told me!” he gripes.

He _could_ assure Dean that it is only because his nose was buried in the shirt and because he knows his scent so well that he even notices. Instead he says, with an air of seriousness, “I think it says something about your usual hygiene that they didn’t tell you.” Understanding dawns on Dean and he shoves Cas away with a “Hey!” as he pouts. Cas laughs and tosses Dean the keys as he climbs into the passenger seat of the Impala.

 _I love you, you friggin’ snarky asshole_ , Dean thinks as he twirls the keys in his hand and slides behind the steering wheel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song referenced in this chapter is "No Control" by One Direction.


	13. Chapter 13

Dean wakes before Cas, as usual, and finds himself curled into his side, which is unusual. Even after sharing a bed for several months, they’ve managed to keep to themselves, excepting a stray foot here or there. Cas tends to take up all of his own side, sleeping either on his stomach or his back, his arms usually flayed above his head. Dean sleeps like he never quite burst out of the womb, curled tightly in a ball and generally burrowed under blankets, his head usually below the edge of his pillow rather than on it. Right now, his head is tucked by Cas’ right pectoral, his knees and shins pressed into Cas’ thigh. It’s comfortable, and he sure as hell would rather stay here and enjoy it, but that sets off too many fantasies. He forces himself to sit up on an elbow.

In the ambient light, Dean sees Cas sprawled out on his pillow. His arms are flung over his head the way babies sleep sometimes, open and vulnerable without a care in the world. His face is tilted toward Dean and lax in sleep, his lips just slightly parted. He’d love to kiss that plush mouth every morning, but instead, he’s going to fill it with homemade cinnamon rolls.

Careful not to wake him, Dean rolls out of bed and peeks out the window. It’s raining hard, and he wishes he’d thought about making the rolls before he got too comfortable and lazy to leave the house last night. He’s stuck making a grocery store run this morning. Dean dresses quickly in some grungy jeans and a plain black t-shirt, saving his sweats and favorite comfy t-shirt for lounging around the rest of the day. He is so looking forward to hanging out with Cas and his family, no one to fool (except himself). As he sneaks out the door, he turns to look at Cas. His friend has rolled onto his stomach and is now face-planted in Dean’s pillow with his arms wrapped around it. Dean’s breath catches and he has to leave.

He’s soaking wet and shivering in the grocery store thanks to the air conditioning, so he hurries to gather the ingredients. His mom has most of them, but she doesn’t have the _really good_ cinnamon they prefer, and she was out of powdered sugar and low on butter. He also remembers to grab a few packages of English muffins, sauce, cheese and toppings for later. Passing the coffee aisle, Dean spots a dark roast that Cas often drinks at home and decides to buy it. Dean loves it, too, though he hadn’t expected to. He once joked that it was “bitter, like my soul,” and Cas _had_ to come back with “it’s strong, like your soul, Dean” and Dean was so flustered he had to drum up some lame excuse and leave the damn room.

Dean is bouncing from foot to foot to get his body temperature up (and to stave off boredom; who knew there’d be a _line_ at nearly 7:00am?) when someone says, “Mi amigo!” Dean turns and smiles.

“Garth, my man!” he says brightly. Garth was always a bit of an oddity, but Dean couldn’t help but like him.

“Dean! How are ya?” Garth gives Dean an awkward hug over the grocery items in their arms.

“Great, thanks. Hell, I haven’t seen you in forever! What’re you up to?”

“Gettin’ some saltines and ginger ale for Bess. She’s got awful morning sickness. Oh, and mint chocolate chip ice cream for later. Seems to be the only thing she can eat lately.”

“Ah, sorry to hear she’s sick, but congratulations!”

“Thanks, man! And what brings you out to the grocery store at this hour?”

“Just getting stuff to make Cas some cinnamon rolls. I’ve been keeping him busy all week, so I figured I’d get on his good side.”

Garth laughs. “The things we do for love, eh?” Dean smiles and nods as he places his things on the conveyor belt. “Hey, speaking of congratulations, congrats to you guys! When’s the big day?”

Realizing he’s talking about the fake wedding that’s supposed to follow the fake engagement, Dean stutters, “I, uh, I don’t know. Haven’t set a date.”

“Well, I’d love to get an invite when you do!”

Dean’s heart breaks a little, but he can’t very well tell him that there won’t be a wedding. “Sure, man.” He swipes his card through the reader.

“Awesome! Knew you guys would end up together.”

“How’d you know that?” Dean asks, genuinely curious. Maybe he could learn exactly what he’s doing to make it so obvious to everyone else.

Garth shrugs. “Just… the way you guys were around each other, the way you talked about each other, pictures I see of the two of you on Facebook. Written in the stars, man.”

“I’ll tell Cas you said that. He’ll get a kick out of it,” Dean smiles. “Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow night, yeah?”

“I’ll be there, man! See you and your fiancé then!”

 _Yeah, me and my fiancé_ , Dean thinks as he dashes into the rain.

***

It's the feel of cool sheets that wakes Cas earlier than he expects. Thanks to room-darkening drapes (bless Mary for that design choice), Cas has no idea what time it is. He starts to puzzle it out, to collect the evidence in his sleep-addled mind that would lead toward one conclusion or another, then abandons it. He's sleepy and content and he doesn't care what time it is. Outside, the rain beats a steady pitter-pat against the windowpane. Cas smiles to himself. Rain certainly makes his job harder sometimes, but he's not working today. He's on vacation, with Dean, in their hometown, and today is their do-nothing day. The rain is perfect for doing nothing... which is what Dean should be doing, so where is he?

Cas rouses himself until he's perpendicular to the floor, then slides on a pair of long basketball shorts and the first t-shirt he sees through squinty eyes. He thinks it's inside out. His foot brushes a pile of wet clothes on the floor by the bedroom door he doesn’t think was there last night. He leaves the room, makes a detour to the bathroom, then lets gravity propel him down the stairs, the old carpeting scraping the arches of his bare feet. He follows the smells of good coffee and pungent cinnamon into the kitchen.

Dean is humming to himself, a song he's probably heard a thousand times (and Cas, having lived with him so long, at least a couple hundred). He’s dressed in an old t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants cut off at the knees. His movements are easy, fluid. It's almost like being back home – _their_ home, where they're so comfortable. Who knows, now, how comfortable they will be, especially once Cas reveals his feelings? He sighs to himself and tries not to be so sour and hopeless and just act _normal_ for once – whatever that means. Cas plants himself behind Dean and hooks his chin over his shoulder as he grabs at the sides of his shirt. "Are those cinnamon rolls you're making?" he asks, voice husky with residual sleepiness.

The humming stops. "They are." Dean's grin is bright and beautiful in his voice.

"Awesome," Cas murmurs, not daring to say anything else, just in case _Oh God I love you I've loved you for years_ tries to sneak from his before-coffee brain and out of his before-coffee mouth. It seems like an extreme reaction to cinnamon rolls, even if they are his favorite breakfast food.

Dean is amused at Cas' sleepy demeanor and aroused at the heat of Cas' body against his back. Cas rubs his face against Dean's shoulder, like he does in the mornings into his pillow or the mattress when he’s trying to wake up, and Dean has to bite his lip and focus on buttering the surface of the dough to keep himself from falling apart at the intimacy of the gesture.

"I'm rubbing off on you," Dean teases Cas for his use of one of Dean's favorite words. Biting his lip wasn't quite enough; he has to tease him so that he can displace the sudden, overwhelming tingling in his gut.

"That's not appropriate in your mother's kitchen, Dean," Cas mumbles with a smile, and it takes Dean a moment before he realizes the joke Cas is making. He blushes furiously, thinking both of how this is yet another sexualized joke and of how transparent his feelings must be to Cas. He has to get this back into friendship territory.

Dean elbows Cas in the arm, dislodging him from his shirt. Cas responds by shoving his shoulder, which Dean responds to by turning around and poking him repeatedly in the chest, which he knows drives the man nuts. Cas responds by putting him in an arm lock. Dean smashes and smears his free hand in Cas' face. Sugar and butter coat his face and he howls, letting go of Dean and clutching his hands to his eyes. Dean stops immediately.

"Dude, are you okay? I'm so sorry!" Dean says. "Here, lemme look." Dean pulls Cas into the downstairs bathroom and turns on the light. He grabs a washcloth from the linen closet and runs it under the tap, then squeezes it out and gently washes Cas' eyes and face. Cas sits quietly, letting Dean work and trying to imagine how in the world wiping baking products from someone's face can turn a person on (because it is, right now).

"Here, I can do it," Cas says. He takes the cloth from Dean, who stands back guiltily. He rubs the cloth under the water once again, rinsing off the greasy, granular mess and soaking the cloth in warm water thoroughly. Cas turns off the water, holds the towel in both hands.... and pushes the sopping wet cloth in Dean's face.

"Fucker!" Dean yells. Cas breaks into peals of laughter, now thoroughly awake and relieved to have set his arousal aside. Dean removes the cloth and laughs too.

"Were you even hurt?" Dean asks, playful accusation in his tone.

"I was a little, yeah," Cas confirms. "But then I saw an opportunity." Dean laughs again and slaps him on the shoulder.

"Well played. I gotta go finish your cinnamon rolls, though I'm much less inclined now."

"Why are you making them, anyway? What did you do?" Cas asks with a raised brow.

"I didn't do anything!" Dean says with mock indignation before saying seriously, "They're just for, well... just for being here, for everything you're doing."

"Thank you," Cas says sincerely, "but you know that's not necessary."

"Listen, you're going way beyond the call of best friend duty here, taking off time, pretending..."

"Dean," he says, cutting him off, "I _offered_ to come with you. _I suggested_ we allow people to think we're a couple. _I gave you a ring_. I am here of my own free will because I... because you are my best friend and I would do anything for you. So please, stop thanking me. Let's just enjoy our day together, okay?"

The pounding of Dean's heart is nearly too much to take. He doesn't know how to answer Cas' sincerity without confessing everything he's felt for the past few years. "So... I shouldn't make you cinnamon rolls, then?" he asks, hoping to lighten the moment so he can compartmentalize his feelings once again. _Friend zone. Firmly in the friend zone_.

“Oh no, you should keep making those,” Cas smiles, blue eyes twinkling.

“Alright, then,” Dean nods. “Scoot.” He slides past Cas and hopes he looks less flustered than he feels.

By the look on Sam’s face, who watched the whole thing from the living room, he’s guessing not.

***

The cinnamon rolls are a hit, of course, and Dean’s thankful he made enough for everyone (because his family is a bunch of vultures – he almost has to start swinging a broomstick to make sure Cas gets his first). Sam, Sarah and Mary are up for a do-nothing day as well, so the five of them spend the morning and early afternoon binge-watching old episodes of _Saturday Night Live_ and stand-up comedy specials. Cas makes English muffin pizzas around 2:00 and serves them on a silver platter he found in the cabinet above Mary’s fridge that she never goes into.

“Ooh, fancy,” Sarah says as she picks up a pizza with diced pepperoni.

“No need to be savages,” Cas says in a snobby accent. He gives a knowing glance at Dean, who winks. It’s something they used to do in college sometimes – they dressed up Ramen noodles with cut-glass bowls from the thrift store, added canned shrimp and grated cheese from a plastic jar to plain noodles and called it shrimp alfredo. He leaves the tray and returns with another a few minutes later, this one laden with beer and fancy glasses.

“One must always be dignified, despite the circumstances,” Dean says to Cas’ earlier comment, in his own haughty accent. He pours drinks and gives a crystal goblet to each person. “Even when eating Confetti Rice Casserole and drinking something called ‘Powdered Juice-Type Beverage,’” Dean grins, and Cas shivers at the memory of the gritty drink and the dish made with white rice, a bag of frozen mixed vegetables, and sliced hard-boiled eggs.

“But some good things came out of those lean years,” Cas comments as he raises his glass. “We survived.”

“The trauma of surviving in a tiny apartment on terrible food brought us closer,” Dean smiles. He clinks his glass against Castiel’s.

“It did,” Cas smiles in return, and they look at each other fondly, mirroring each other as they lean back against the couch, each propped up by an arm.

“Oh God help us,” Sam mutters, and Sarah smacks his arm lightly.

“You got something to say, bitch?” Dean turns and raises his chin toward his brother.

“Lots, jerk,” he responds, and Dean shimmies past the coffee table to chase after Sam, who smartly stands and runs away.

Cas shakes his head. “Savages,” he smirks as he, Sarah, and Mary eat their pizzas elegantly while Sam and Dean wrestle in the next room.

The rest of the afternoon is spent playing board games. Sam is the unequivocal winner of Sorry, a game Dean has never liked. Dean wins Clue, and Mary bests everyone at poker. They order Thai delivery and move to the kitchen to munch on it happily while they ready themselves for the next game. The rain, a steady drumbeat all day, continues to fall.

Between bites, Cas peruses the game closet. “Ah ha!” he says as he pulls out a black box.

“No no no no,” the brothers chime together.

“What?” Sarah asks, looking at Cas. “Oh,” she says, laughing.

“Grow up,” Cas reproaches them.

“That is _not_ a game you play with your mother, Cas!” Dean sputters.

Cas rolls his eyes. “She’s an adult, Dean, and so are we.”

“It’ll be fun!” Mary says. “I haven’t gotten to play it with you boys yet. Only with my friends.”

“I don’t even want to _think_ about that,” Sam mutters under his breath.

“I still can’t believe you bought _my mother_ Cards Against Humanity. For _Christmas_ ,” Dean groans.

“Well, believe it,” Cas retorts. He places the box on the counter and digs out the smaller boxes of cards to place on the kitchen table, sliding them between boxes of Pad Thai and red curry. “It’ll be okay,” he assures Dean, smacking a loud kiss beside his ear as he sits. Dean cringes at the noise and elbows Cas gently. “Sorry,” he chuckles and places another loud kiss to his temple, which Dean accepts.

“Okay, you all know how to play,” Cas says as he passes the cards around. He’s getting amused looks he can’t figure out. “What?” he asks.

“Thought you guys weren’t pretending here,” Sam answers with an arched brow. “Never mind,” he laughs almost immediately after. Cas and Dean’s oblivious looks are all the confirmation he needs.

Frosty pilsner glasses in hand, the family settles down to play the raunchy card game. After a few rounds, Cas and Sarah are shaking with laughter, Mary looks smug, and Dean and Sam have twin looks of horror. 

"Oh boys," she tuts, "I'm not a blushing virgin!"  She selects the next card. "Although I don't know what this is."  She holds the card up. The color drains from the brothers’ faces. 

"I don't actually know what that is, either," Sarah comments. 

"I am  _not_  explaining that," Dean declares as he points, and Sam nods emphatically with him. Cas peers around Mary's outstretched hand to see the card. 

"Oh," he says, "that's..."

"Don't tell her that, Cas!"

Cas places a comforting hand on Dean’s thigh. "Better to learn it at home than from the Internet," he says, a tone of mocking sincerity in his voice. Dean scowls. 

"Come here," he beckons Mary and Sarah closer to him. He pulls them into a huddle and whispers the answer to their question. 

"Okay then," Sarah says as Mary laughs. "I probably could've gone my whole life not knowing that."

"But now you do, and now we can resume the game," Cas says, unperturbed. 

Dean and Sam get over their mortification. Dean is especially forgiving as Cas leans into his space, the slide of his bare calf strangely arousing when it brushes accidentally against his. 

Cas wins the game by a landslide. 

"You are a dirty birdie," Sarah giggles as Cas collects his pile of cards. He shrugs. 

"I just had cards that worked with the cards drawn, and a good enough sense of all of you to know what you would think is humorous."

"Mmm, I see... well, your fiancé really should have warned us."

"He's…" Dean starts. He’s going to say _a strategist_ or _smart_ or something like that, then his brain catches up to the fiancé part of what she said. He is suddenly reminded, once again, about the reunion tomorrow and about their fake engagement and about how everything is almost over. "I'm gonna watch TV for a few, then head to bed," he says abruptly. He grabs a bottle of water roughly from the fridge and flops onto the couch. The others exchange looks before Cas quietly makes his way into the living room. He sits next to him placidly and waits. Eventually Dean lays his head on Cas' shoulder and exhales heavily. Cas rests his cheek on Dean's hair, and Dean allows himself to feel the comfort his best friend is offering even as his mind spirals out of control. They've sat like this hundreds of times, when one of them is upset or sick or sometimes just because. Yet now it feels... different, somehow, like he's balancing on a precipice. More than ever, he's aware of Cas' solid presence, both emotionally and physically, and his heart's response is frightening in its intensity. It's his own damn fault that he's in this mess of suspended longing. When they get back home, he’ll either have to confess and face the consequences or he’ll have to choke all of these feelings down once again – but like squeezing toothpaste out of the tube, he doesn't think he'll ever be able to stuff all his feelings back in, and they’ll be spread about in one gloppy mess they’ll both be stuck cleaning.

"I can almost hear you thinking," Cas murmurs into his hair. "C'mon, the rain's let up. Let's go for a walk before bed, get some fresh air." He uses Dean’s leg to support himself as he stands, and Dean’s body responds with a twitch. “Come on,” he says again, offering his hand to pull Dean up.

Not bothering to change out of their comfortable clothes, they slide into shoes and head out the door. The rain has eased to sprinkles and the air is cool but not uncomfortable. The friends walk side by side down the street, enjoying the silence and each other’s company. Neither tries to place distance between them when they bump into each other as they walk.

“Nervous about tomorrow?” asks Cas finally.

“Yeah,” Dean admits, though doesn’t admit to why. Before this trip he was nervous about seeing certain people and kicking up bad memories. Now he’s nervous for other reasons.

“You’re going to be okay.”

“I know.”

“And I’ll do my best to be the partner you need by your side.”

Dean’s heart aches. Sometimes Cas’ words are so beautiful and he doesn’t even try. “Sounds like poetry, Cas.”

“We are not poets, Dean,” Cas volleys in return. He nudges Dean’s shoulder to make him smile and gets a half-hearted response. “Hey.”

“What?”

“Everything’s going to be fine. I’ll be there. You don’t have to talk to those people if you don’t want to. Focus on the people you want to see and let those other people suck it.” Cas is gratified at Dean’s chuckle. “Here’s the plan: we go in, you’ll impress them all with how amazing you are, you’ll reconnect with your friends, we’ll leave. If those buffoons try to start anything, we’ll keep each other calm and out of jail.” Dean’s laugh rings through the drizzle. It’s Cas’ favorite sound.

  
“So… how do you want to handle our presentation as a couple?” Castiel asks before he loses his nerve. Dean’s smile falls a little and Cas instantly regrets asking. However, it transforms to something small and soft, a smile he’s only seen directed toward him, and Cas feels warmed from the inside out.

“Well, I guess just act like other couples, you know,” he answers shyly.

“Okay. Kissing?”

“You wanna take me behind the bleachers, Cas?” he jokes with wiggling brows to stave off the desire that just won’t go away.

“We’ll be at the hotel function room across the street,” Cas reminds him.

“Oh yeah. Under the hors d’oeuvres table, then?”

“Whatever you think will help.”

Dean can’t tell if he’s being serious. “Knowing you, you probably mean that.”

“Of course I mean it.” His blue eyes pierce through the misty drizzle.

“How about doing it in the coat closet?”

“Whatever you think will help.”

Dean can’t help it. He loves this man so much that all he can do is huff a surprised laugh, pull him in for a hug, and just breathe until his heart slows.

Castiel holds him, no questions asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of fun facts:
> 
> 1) Confetti Rice Casserole is a real thing, and it was nasty but cheap. It made terrible leftovers.  
> 2) The Cards Against Humanity thing happened at my home (but not with my mom). The word unknown by the women in the room was "bukkake." The men wouldn't explain it and the women had to rely on the internet for explanation.


	14. Chapter 14

It’s Dean who wakes up alone this morning, and it hurts more than it should. Realistically, Dean knows Cas is probably out for a run or taking a shower or something, but being able to wake up next to him is something Dean never takes for granted – and, given what he’s thinking of telling Cas, it probably won’t be happening much longer.

As if thinking of him conjures the man, Cas steps quietly into the room. Dean’s eyes are still closed, but he knows his every step. He feels his friend’s warmth as he hunches down next to Dean on his side of the bed.

“Dean,” he whispers as he cards long fingers through his hair. With this kind of treatment, Dean is in no hurry to open his eyes. “Dean,” he says again, softly. “Rigel,” he sing-songs. His face is mere inches from Dean’s, and his breath drifts over his cheeks. Dean’s eyes flutter open. “Good morning,” he smiles. “I made you breakfast.”

Dean furrows his brows. “Breakfast?”

“It’s Saturday,” he explains. Right. They alternate making breakfast on the weekends.

“Didn’t hafta do that, Cas,” he mumbles sleepily.

“I wanted to. Come on down.” Cas allows his hand to drift down from Dean’s hair and onto his shoulder. He gives it a quick squeeze before giving him some privacy.

The greasy, smoky scent of bacon assaults Dean’s nose as he pads down the stairs. Turning into the kitchen, he sees the bacon along with coffee and juice and homemade home fries piled into a bowl. Fruit and yogurt are layered in small, thin glasses at each place setting. His family is chatting cheerfully when Dean sits and reaches for a piece of bacon, piled high on a plate.

“Dean, manners!” Mary chides gently. Dean takes a large bite.

“Look out,” Cas warns as he lays eggs on Dean’s plate. They’re over easy, his favorite.

“Duuude,” Dean says gratefully when he cuts into the yolk. It oozes perfectly. He swirls several pieces of home fries into the yellow goo and chews, making pleased sounds. He stops when he notices no one else is eating yet. “What?”

“We’re waiting for Cas,” Sam remarks with a condescending downturn of his mouth.

“Oh, no, eat it while it’s hot,” Cas says over his shoulder. “Please. I’m almost done anyway.”

The family digs into the food as Cas finishes his eggs in the skillet and steps over to the table.

“Why my coffee every time?” Cas complains without really complaining. He points to his nearly-empty mug.

“Tastes better,” Dean says around the food in his mouth. Cas rolls his eyes fondly and takes Dean’s cup. He’s not sure why, but he thinks maybe Dean’s tastes better, too.

Everyone eats in silence for a while until Sarah asks, “So, big reunion tonight. You guys ready?”

Dean tries to answer, but his cheeks are full of home fries and bacon. “Yes, I believe so,” Cas says as places a hand gently on his arm to stop him from answering with his mouth full.

“Got your story down?”

“I suppose, yes. I’ve been very successful with my strategy all week, so I will continue using it as much as possible.”

“Which is?”

“Telling the truth and allowing others to believe whatever they want.”

Sarah smiles. “Interesting approach.”

“It prevents any problems with having to keep all the lies memorized.”

“How about you, Dean? Ready to tell the world about your loooove for Castiel?” asks Sam with a smirk.

“That’s not really the focus of the evening,” Cas interrupts before Dean can answer.

“Thanks, Cas, but yeah, I’m ready,” Dean says. “If anyone asks.”

“Which they will, because that’s what people discuss at these things,” Mary notes. “Do you want children?”

“What?” Dean chokes at the same time as Cas says, “Yes.”

“You should probably work on your reaction, Dean.”

“Shut up, Sam, I was just surprised.” Turning to Cas, who’s sitting serenely like the question hasn’t fazed him at all, he says, “You think we should tell people that?”

“I was merely answering her question, although it might be preferable to have the same answer. Do you want children, Dean?”

Dean licks his lips nervously before saying, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“I’m glad,” Cas regards Dean with that look he gives him sometimes, the one that makes his heart flutter and his hands restless. “You’ll be a wonderful father, Dean. You are passionate and intelligent and loving even when circumstances should render you otherwise. Any child will be fortunate to have you, and any adult you choose to love will be very fortunate indeed to share a life with you and raise children together.”

The room feels much, much smaller, and it’s become hard to breathe through his thick throat. “Shit, Cas.” Dean rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. “Fuck.”

Cas chews his bottom lip so hard it turns white. “I’m… sorry to upset you. I didn’t realize…”

“Nah, I’m not upset, Cas,” he rasps. “Just… I’ll be right back.” Dean stands and walks out of the house. Cas looks after him worriedly but stays seated.

“He’s okay, honey,” Mary says as she wraps an arm around Cas. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Mary hears Sam and Sarah talking quietly with Castiel as she makes her way outside. Stepping into the humid air makes her hair frizz, and she smooths it down unconsciously as she sits on the stairs next to her eldest son.

“Why’s he gotta _be_ like that?” Dean asks as he looks toward the street.

“He doesn’t know how not to be like that when it comes to you, honey.” She rubs circles into his back with her palm. “Is it hard for you to hear?”

“I don’t get it. It’s… confusing. It confuses me.”

“Why is that?”

“He just sounds so goddamn sincere about everything, all the time. It makes me think things and I misinterpret shit. I don’t know.”

Mary watches her neighbor pluck weeds from her flower bed when Dean turns away from her. “You know,” she says finally, “maybe you’re not misinterpreting.”

He huffs a mirthless laugh. “Yeah, well, pretty sure I am.”

“You might be surprised,” Mary says as she stands. “I find that if you ask Castiel the right questions, you get the answers you’re looking for.” She leaves Dean alone to his thoughts.

Sarah, Sam and Cas clatter noisily out the door a few minutes later and convene in the driveway.

“Winchester,” Cas yells. Dean looks up and lifts his hands in front of him just as a basketball is about to hit his face. “Two on two, let’s go!”

“Alright, alright, Novak, one sec.” Dean throws the ball back to him and runs into the house, returning a couple of minutes later in shorts and with a strip of bacon hanging from his mouth.

“Let’s go!” Dean yells, and the two pairs jostle and foul and score on the old basketball hoop with no net for nearly two hours, until the rising humidity wins out.

“I think I’m dying,” Dean wheezes as he collapses on a shady spot on the lawn, belatedly realizing it’s still wet from last night.

“Dean…”

“Yes, I know, smartass. I’ll have you know I _wanted_ to lie on wet grass. It’s much cooler.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, Cas. You should try it.” Dean shoots up off the ground and grabs Cas’ arms, pulling him down. He lands on Dean with a thud and tries to wiggle off, but Dean won’t hear of it. Instead, he tries to roll over and push the man into the wet, slightly muddy grass. Cas fights back and could easily overcome Dean if he wanted to, but he doesn’t want to. They tussle until they’re both even more exhausted, finally stopping through unspoken agreement. Cas, still on top of Dean, lets his full weight rest on his friend as he takes the weight off his elbows.

“You’re getting heavy, bud,” Dean grumbles, even though it’s not the real reason he wants Cas off him.

“Too bad. You brought me down here. This is your punishment.”

 _Hot guy I’m in love with draped across me. Some punishment._ “Hey.” Cas pulls his arms in and tucks them under himself, cuddling into Dean. “Hey.”

“Shh. I’m comfy,” Cas says. He closes his eyes and sighs.

“Hey.” He starts poking him in the ribs. “Hey, hey, hey.” Castiel squirms as Dean starts to flutter his fingers over his ribs instead, remembering how ticklish he is, and Dean recalls yet again that he’s trying to get the man off him before this becomes awkward for both of them. But Cas is squealing in that high-pitched little child’s laugh that Dean never hears enough of, so he keeps going because the payoff is worth the embarrassment. Eventually, Cas clasps his wrists and pins them above his head, and it doesn’t make Dean’s situation any better. Cas’ eyes are warm but serious.

“I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable earlier,” Cas says. Dean shakes his head.

“It wasn’t you, man. It’s still hard to hear that kind of stuff about myself,” he meets Cas’ eyes, “but I’m trying. Sorry I got weird.”

“I like weird,” Cas says as he lets go of Dean’s wrists and runs a hand through the blue tips of his hair, “and I like you. Boop.” Cas taps Dean’s nose with his index finger.

“Nerd,” Dean laughs as Cas pulls his legs under him and stands in one powerful movement. Dean rolls over and stands, a bit less gracefully.

“Yeah, well, this nerd is getting into the shower first!” Cas yells as he shoves him lightly and sprints away.

Cas does make it into the shower first, and gets an unwelcome bucket of ice water dumped onto him during it as a reward.

Other than a visit to the dojo to visit Steven and Anne (Dean in tow this time, and Lisa nowhere to be seen), the men spend the remainder of the day at Mary’s. Dean stays busy outside – mowing the lawn, weeding the garden, tuning up Baby. Cas recognizes his busyness for what it is and brings him water but otherwise leaves him alone to work out whatever is on his mind. He does laundry and reads with Sam on the porch while Sarah and Mary work in Mary’s art room.

At 5:00, Cas stops Dean from starting yet another project. “Supper’s ready. We need to eat and get ready to go,” he says gently. Dean nods and wipes the sweat from his forehead. Cas watches with what he hopes is disguised interest. Dean plans to take his second shower of the day, but puts it off when he sees that Cas and Sam made tacos. Cas stops Dean at four so he doesn’t get sick later and although Dean pouts, he knows his fake fiancé is probably right. “Hope you’re not this bossy when we’re married,” he comments as he looks longingly at the spiced meat.

“If we got married I’d probably be bossier,” Cas says with a wink. That image sets fireworks off in Dean’s upstairs and downstairs brains, and he stands and brings his plate to the sink before anyone can see the blush creeping into his cheeks. He leaves the room with a slightly odd gait as he tries to surreptitiously adjust. His shower takes a couple of minutes longer than usual.

“What are you gonna wear?” Dean shouts through the curtain when he’s done.

“Dean, neither the curtain nor the steam are adequate noise dampeners. I can hear you quite clearly.” Cas splashes cologne onto his neck.

“Okay, smartass, what are you…” he stops as he peeks around the curtain and takes in the view. Cas is dressed in dark, tight jeans, a crisp white dress shirt, untucked and open at the collar, and a fitted navy blue sport coat. His hair is artfully messy; the smell of fruity pomade lingers in the steam. Dean unconsciously licks his lips.

“This okay?” Cas asks as he spreads his arms to his sides.

“Uh, yeah, great,” he says, tongue scraping like sandpaper in his dry mouth.

“Good,” he says with a flash of a grin. “I was hoping not to wear the entire suit.” _I was hoping the same thing_ popped into Dean’s head. “Sarah says the jacket makes my eyes ‘pop.’ I suppose that’s important somehow?”

“Oh, very important,” Dean teases. Cas rolls his eyes. “What should I wear?”

Cas thinks for a moment as he watches a droplet fall from the lashes framing his perfect green eyes. _You should wear nothing, all the time_. “Whatever you want,” Cas says after a pause. “Wear something comfortable.” _Like what you’re in right_ _now_. “I’m going to… let you dress.” He hurries out of the bathroom and slams the door behind him.

Dean shaves and fixes his hair in the bathroom, then wanders to the bedroom. He finds a pair of dark-wash jeans he’s been told flatter his ass and a gray dress shirt and sport coat. He adds a tie, then whips it off, puts it on again, and whips it off again. He unbuttons an extra button. Satisfied, he jams his feet into the only dress shoes he owns and trots downstairs. Castiel is nowhere to be found. Frowning, Dean pokes his head into each room before seeing Cas through the window.

  
Beautiful is not a word Dean uses for men generally, but Cas is beautiful, there is no doubt. He’s sitting on the porch swing, tapping his foot on the wooden slats to keep up the back and forth momentum. His face is thoughtful. He’s playing with the ring, Dean’s ring, twisting it around his finger but never up and off. He bites his lip in that way that tells Dean he’s thinking about something important that makes him nervous. Dean wonders if he’s asking too much of Cas to make him pretend to be something he doesn’t want to be. Cas looks up and sees Dean, and his face breaks into a sunny smile, wide and honest and achingly, utterly… beautiful.

“Ready to go?” he asks softly as Dean steps outside.

“Yup. Let’s do this,” Dean answers, with much more confidence than he feels.

The ride is short and soon they’re pulling into the lot of the Ramada across the street from the high school’s sports fields. They step out of the car and Dean stops. Ghosts of his young classmates have been reanimated in older bodies and a few of them are lingering near the entrance, talking or smoking or both. It’s strange. He never really thought he’d aged at all until he sees them. They’re looking his way and he wonders if they’re thinking the same thing about him.

“Doing okay?” Cas asks as he stands before him.

“Yeah. Just strange, I guess. Surreal.”

“Yes,” Cas agrees. He takes Dean’s left hand and fingers the ring he gave him to wear. “Still want to do this?” Dean isn’t sure if he means the reunion or the couple thing, but the answer is the same and he nods.

Cas squeezes his hand and Dean returns the gesture. He leans in and kisses Dean’s cheek, near his mouth. “Let’s do this, Rigel,” he rumbles.

“We’ve got this, Sunshine,” he smiles, and with Cas smiling back, he thinks he means it.


	15. Chapter 15

The hallway, already decorated in gold striped wallpaper, is additionally festooned with crepe streamers and shiny, swirled paper cut-outs. A registration table sits to the right, with a sign reading “Welcome, Class of 2007!” featured prominently next to it.

“Name?” an unfamiliar woman asks.

“Dean! Castiel! Welcome!” another woman says just behind the first one. Becky. “Dean Winchester,” she tells the woman as she comes around the table. “Hello, hello!” She embraces them both, though Dean wasn’t particularly close to her in high school and Cas doesn’t really know her all that well. Still, she’s kind and they each return her embrace, although perhaps not as enthusiastically. “Ooh, what a beautiful ring, Dean! _Very_ nice choice, Castiel! Where did you get it?”

“Thanks,” Dean says as Cas says “Thank you” simultaneously. “It was a gift from my father… and mother, in a sense,” he explains. “I couldn’t think of a better ring to give him.” Dean’s heart jumps as Cas catches his eyes.

“Oh, how special! A gift truly from the heart! And yours is lovely, too,” she says, holding his hand as she caresses the silvery surface of the ring Cas wears.

“Yes, this is an heirloom from Dean’s family. It’s very special indeed,” Cas explains further as he gazes at it.

“Only the best for Cas,” Dean chimes in, his voice lower than usual. Cas regards him curiously and smiles, feeling very shy all of a sudden.

The woman at the registration table hands Dean a sticker with his name on it. He struggles to peel the paper backing off the cheap adhesive of the label. Cas motions for it and manages to remove the glossy backing. He steps closer into Dean’s space than necessary and sticks it on Dean’s lapel. “Now you’re official,” he murmurs as if they’re sharing an intimate secret. He touches his hand to Dean’s shoulder and lets it slide down the length until their fingers intertwine. “Ready?”

“Have fun, you guys!” Becky says behind them. They wave absently toward her as they make their way inside.

The party is in full swing – if full swing means people are meandering around and talking while picking at the appetizers. Dean feels many sets of eyes turn toward him; he hasn’t yet figured out if they’re as judgmental as they were ten years ago. The DJ is playing background music; Dean assumes he’ll kick up the volume eventually with some of the greatest hits of 2003-2007.

Before he can get his bearings, a man who looks like he’s running for President strides toward them. “Oh fuck,” Dean mutters. “Look out for Mr. Homophobe, Cas.” Richard Roman had given him an especially hard time in high school. Even if he hadn’t pummeled him or harassed him almost constantly for his “deviant behavior,” he would’ve disliked the guy. He was a stuck-up jerk who used people while convincing them he was doing them a favor. He doubts anything has changed.

  
Cas sees Roman approaching and rolls his eyes. He’s one of the people who hurt Dean, so he’s already out of Cas’ favor. Additionally, the man annoys and offends Cas with his “family values” homophobic rhetoric and his questionable business practices. His father gave him the tech portion of the family business and he’s been trying to strike deals with major companies in order to nationalize. So far, no dice. He ran for state senator in Kansas and won, and it boosted his already inflated ego. Castiel is grateful he doesn’t live here anymore to be represented by _him_ in the state’s government.

“Castiel Novak!” he nearly shouts as he bypasses Dean completely to greet Cas, flanked by his wife and another man he assumes is some sort of assistant, perhaps a publicist. The man is taking photos and the wife is eyeing Dean like a lioness eyes an antelope. “How are you?” He holds out a hand that Cas ignores.

“Not as well as I was,” Cas comments.

“Well, these things are a little below us, aren’t they?” he says with a wink and a nod, as if they are members of the same Good Ol’ Boys club. His neglected hand slaps Cas’ shoulder, and Cas glares at it until he removes it.

“Not the event itself. Perhaps certain individuals are beneath me, Mr. Roman,” he says, intensity burning in his eyes.

Not getting the hint, he says, “Agreed, agreed, and please, you can call me Rick.”

“Alright, Dick. And you can call me Dr. Novak,” Cas says lowly. “I trust you remember Dr. Dean Winchester?”

Roman looks at the man to Cas’ side and his smile dampens a little. “Oh, yes, Winchester. I remember.” He turns back to Cas. “So, how go the sciences?”

“They are advancing,” Cas says coldly.

“Ah, good. Well, have you been keeping up with the politics here in Kansas? I’m a senator in state government and I’ve been a strong advocate for the sciences in our school systems.”

“The sciences thank you. We have not been keeping up with the politics in Kansas. What with Dean and I obtaining our doctorates at Stanford and pursuing our prestigious careers in engineering and academia on the West Coast, we’ve hardly had time.” Cas never flaunts their accomplishments in others’ faces, so Dean knows he’s doing it on purpose to piss Roman off. If the twitch in the man’s left eye is any indication, it’s working. He presses his lips together to keep from laughing. Glancing to the wife to see her reaction, she eyes him ravenously and he quickly turns back to Cas and Roman.

“Ah, yes, well, I’m sure you’re very busy, Dr. Novak.”

“We are,” Cas agrees. “I do recall your company tried to make a deal with Google.”

“Oh yes, yes. They weren’t quite ready for our ideas yet. Too radical, they said. Well, I say they’re too _advanced_ for Google!”

“Is that so?” Dean asks, knowing where Cas is heading and taking over. “Because I work there and remember hearing about your project, and I gotta say, it was way below our standards.” He hadn’t been directly involved, but Charlie had talked to him about it and he figured that was good enough to sound convincing.

Roman straightens his suit and flicks a piece of lint off his lapel.

“Well, their loss. Those eggheads just didn’t understand the sophistication of our proposal,” Roman harrumphs. “I’m also in the midst of sending a research proposal to Stanford. I wondered…”

Cas stops him before he can finish. “Stanford has people who handle those sorts of things. I’m certain your staff will be able to make the appropriate contacts.”

“Yes, I’m certain. But you have the spirit of a rebel, Castiel. I’m sure you would understand the sophistication and innovation of our work. Perhaps a recommendation from you…”

“Dick, you don’t want my recommendation, I assure you. Dean, are you ready?”

“Very,” Dean replies. He raises his arm so Roman sees their knotted hands. “My fiancé and I need to mingle. See ya, Dick!”

“Bye, Dick,” Cas waves with his free hand.

“Well that was fun,” Dean grins. He feels a little less nervous now that he’s gotten one asshole out of the way and is looking for familiar faces in the crowd; he finds Garth and makes a beeline toward him, Cas following.

“Hey! Dean! Good to see you again!” Garth greets with delight. He shakes both their hands, forcing them to let go of each other, at least for now. “And Cas! Nice to see you! Love your show!”

“You as well, Garth, and thank you,” Cas smiles. He holds his hand out to the woman next to Garth, who looks a little shocked. “Hello. I’m Castiel.”

“Bess,” she squeaks, and Dean thinks she’s adorable. She clears her throat. “Sorry. I’m Bess. It’s not often I get to meet a celebrity.”

“Well, let me know when you do,” Cas says, and Dean is pretty sure it’s a joke. At any rate, she laughs.

They talk about their jobs and the baby due sometime in the early spring. They laugh about a few experiences they had in classes together, such as when Garth got smacked in the face by the soccer ball Dean kicked during gym and when they had to act out _Julius Caesar_ and Garth got to stab him but felt bad about it. Tessa, a friend of Dean’s, approaches with her husband, and they recycle some of the conversation from before. Tessa’s husband David is an astronomy buff and chats with Cas for a while about the likelihood of an asteroid hitting the Earth in their lifetimes.

“So Dean, I heard you’re engaged?” Tessa asks. “When’s the wedding?”

“Don’t know yet,” Dean responds, and Cas draws his attention back to the larger conversation.

“I like the idea of a summer wedding,” Cas says. He winds an arm around Dean’s waist. Dean responds in kind.

“Yeah, probably easier since you have a heavier class load during the academic year,” Dean says to Cas. “Easier for everyone to get time off to fly out to California, too.”

“Oh,” Cas says with surprise, “I always thought you’d want to get married here, maybe at the little church with the stonework on Main Street. I don’t know the denomination. But I think Stanford Memorial would be nice, too. Symbolic. Or wherever you want, really. I honestly don’t care as long as we’re together.”

“You… okay,” Dean says with equal surprise before remembering that Cas is _acting_. “Um, yeah, we’ll work out something.”

“And kids?” Bess asks as she rubs her abdomen.

“Yes,” they say together, and everyone laughs.

“I always thought you two would end up together,” Tessa remarks as she sips her wine.

“Been hearing that a lot lately,” Dean comments. Cas raises his brows. Before he can ask any questions, a familiar voice greets the circle of friends and Dean is lifted from the floor from behind.

“Benny!” everyone calls, familiar with the man so popular in high school. Dean turns around and pulls him into a bear hug. Benny shakes hands with everyone in the circle, ending with Cas. “You’re lookin’ a bit blue today, Cas,” he jokes as he attempts to ruffle Cas’ blue-tipped hair. It doesn’t move, which makes everyone laugh again, and Cas pats him on the shoulder in consolation. Benny introduces the crowd to Andrea, his wife, and they talk for a bit again about everyone’s careers and what’s going on in their lives. Dean is with people who like him, people he still feels a connection to, and he realizes that although there was a lot of crap, not all of high school was bad and these people were good people who helped him through the worst of it – especially the man standing by his side, as he has for the past twelve years. Dean is comfortable and happy.

When Cas feels Dean’s body find that slump of contentment and ease, Cas excuses himself to get drinks for the two of them. The line is long and several people approach him for pictures or to talk. On his way back, he notices the circle is missing Tessa and her spouse but, to Cas’ dismay, now includes an unwanted guest and a woman next to him. Dean looks a bit nervous and Cas could kick himself for leaving. He knew this one would be the worst one for Dean.

He hands Dean his drink. “Hello, my love,” Cas purrs, then slips an arm around his waist and kisses him, soundly but sweetly. Dean is dizzy as he returns it and forgets for a moment that this isn’t real. He takes the comfort it offers anyway. “Geez, miss me?” he laughs as their lips separate.

“Yes, always.” Cas bumps Dean’s nose with his own, then turns to face the newcomers. “Castiel Novak,” he says warmly to the woman as he extends his hand. “Did you graduate with Dean?”

“No, my husband did. I’m just the tagalong spouse. Libby Bass,” she replies as she takes his hand.

“Pleasure to meet you. And you are?” he says, turning to the man next to her with wide, innocent eyes. He definitely knows who he is, and he’s going to play with him like a cat plays with a mouse. In Castiel’s mind it’s not lying – it’s revenge.

“Aaron,” he says a little snidely. His wife glares at him for his bad manners.

“Aaron, Aaron…” he says, tapping his cheekbone as he pretends to think about who the man is. “Oh!” He begins to laugh. “Dean, isn’t he the one you told me …” Cas starts, then pulls Dean in and whispers in his ear, giggling and holding his thumb and index finger about two inches apart, “… has the toothpick penis?” Dean never told him any such thing, but he laughs anyway, knowing what Cas is doing. No one else heard him, but their classmates can guess given the history and Cas’ gesture made near his abdomen and they try not to snicker. Aaron fumes and Libby has no idea what is going on.

“Sorry it took me a moment to remember you, but I remember clearly now,” Cas says to Aaron. “I’ve loved him for so long that sometimes I forget there were others before me. Dean hasn’t spoken about you in _many_ years.” Dean tries to maintain a serious face at Cas’ obvious toying with his ex and doesn’t dare look at Benny, who isn’t doing nearly as good a job of keeping it together.

“Were you good friends in high school?” Libby asks with some confusion. In the space of a second, Cas realizes she doesn’t know who Dean is, which means Aaron never mentioned him, which probably means he didn’t mention other dalliances he may have had, male or female. It’s against his nature to out people, but what if he’s still at it and exposing her without her knowledge? Plus, Aaron was horrible to Dean and that trumps everything else, so… morals be damned.

  
“At one time, kind of,” Dean answers casually, “but then, not so much.” He feels awkward, not sure what to say to this woman. Cas takes care of it for him.

“Oh, Aaron didn’t mention it? They dated…”

“We did not!” Aaron nearly shouts.

“Hmm. You know, Jesus told Peter that before the cock crowed Peter would deny him three times. Has your cock crowed, Aaron?” He eyes the man formidably.

Aaron is stunned into silence. His wife’s mind is still trying to catch up. Everyone else can’t stop staring at the scene.

“I suppose Aaron is right, though. Dating’s not really the term. Dating would involve openly acknowledging a romantic relationship, but Aaron just wanted him for… well, _you know_ ,” he says with a meaningful look to Libby, who blanches. “Ah, teens and their hormones. Anyway, I sort of have your husband to thank for me meeting the love of my life, so I’m rather glad it didn’t work out between them, to be honest. I can’t imagine not having Dean in my life. I only have eyes for him and I’m just so proud to be with him every day, I could shout it from the rooftops. You know how it is to be in love – you just want to... _tell everybody_.” He squeezes Dean’s hip as Dean watches him in awe. Benny places his huge hand over his mouth to stifle the guffaw that’s fighting to escape. Garth, Bess and Andrea are still watching, mesmerized.

“How did you…” Libby starts to ask hesitantly.

“It’s kind of an ugly story,” Dean says, and Cas nods.

“Aaron can fill you in. And I’m sure we’re all past that now and he wouldn’t resort to such… regrettable behaviors again,” Cas adds. “Well, shall we dance, my love?” He gestures to the dance floor, fuller now that the DJ has punched the music up to a more energetic level. Dean agrees and says, “Nice to meet you, Libby. Aaron,” he salutes the man with two fingers as he walks away arm-in-arm with Cas.

Dean takes Cas in his arms as they stop on the dance floor. The adrenaline that was pumping through him so hard when Aaron first walked up to them is completely dissipated. “Dude, what was that?” he asks with a wide grin.

“The man pisses me off, Dean. I’m sorry if I stepped over the line.”

“Don’t be. It’s cool. I didn’t know what to say to the guy. Felt bad for his wife, though.” He leans against Cas’ temple as Cas hums in agreement and continues, “I thought it would be this scary thing, you know? Facing everyone again, I mean. But you know what? It’s not. I used to care so much about them, their opinions, like they defined who I was. But it’s like you said back home – I’ve grown up a lot and I’ve done a lot, and the small-minded opinions of people I don’t care about don’t matter. Aaron did bring up bad memories, but he’s just one guy, one really small blip on the radar of my whole life, and there’s been so much good since then that’s way overshadowed anything he did. I just don’t care about him anymore. I just don’t care about anyone who wants to treat me badly. I’m good the way I am, and if people don’t like it, tough shit.” Dean is happy to realize that he truly, finally, means it.

Cas is full to bursting with pride for Dean. He knows how difficult a journey it has been for him to get through the ugliness of the past, and by Dean’s voice he knows that Dean is sincere. Cas expects it will still come up again from time to time – insecurities seldom die a quiet death – but for now, his friend is at peace with himself, his spirit cleansed like a room with the windows open to the spring breeze. Cas wraps his arms around him, no longer dancing but just standing there hugging him. “Love you, Dean. I’m proud of you,” he rasps through a throat rough with emotion.

“I’m proud of us, man. I wouldn’t have done any of this without you. Love you, Cas.” Dean hugs him tighter, then pulls back to look at him. “Um, Cas…”

“Hey, Tiger!” says a voice to Dean’s left. They turn in unison to see Pam, a feisty woman who’d been one of Dean’s biggest supporters, and Ash, a tech whiz who hung out in the vocational wing because most of his classes bored him. He embraces her and kisses her on the cheek. “And you, hot stuff,” she teases Cas. He gives her a quick hug and Ash a handshake. “Come sit with us!”

Dean’s sore feet remind him that they haven’t sat down since they arrived. He wishes he’d worn Converse like Cas, but he forced his feet into these terrible dress shoes that Cas had warned him looked too small. He gratefully follows Pam, Ash, and Cas to a round table with tea lights and balloons in the center, where Donna Hanscom and Olivia Lowry are already sitting. Dean wonders if he can sneak his shoes off. Cas smirks as Dean shifts around in his seat because, damn him, he’s probably thinking _I told you so_. The six happily chat about the recycled topics of the evening (and Dean learns that except for him and Cas, who are supposedly a couple, everyone at the table is single and fine with it, which is interesting) and then moves on to the latest _Orange Is the New Black_ season. Cas feels a presence attempting to squeeze in a chair next to him, and he looks up to see Lisa there.

“Hi!” she says brightly to everyone at the table. Most of them greet her with smiles and welcoming eyes. “Excuse me,” she says as she successfully wedges a chair between Dean and Cas enough to be in the way. Everyone at the table gives her a strange look for seating herself between the couple, but no one says anything. Cas’ mouth turns up on one side and he shakes his head subtly. “Sorry ‘bout that,” she says over her shoulder to Cas, clearly not sorry. Dean meets Cas’ eyes above her head in apology, and Cas brushes off her intrusion. She begins to talk to Dean, and Cas, not wanting his own feelings about the woman to pressure Dean in any way, takes the opportunity to use the bathroom and pick up a couple more drinks at the bar.

“I knew it,” Roman says as he stands next to Cas at the urinals.

“It’s not polite to comment on the larger genitalia of the person next to you,” Cas says.

Roman scowls. “I mean about your so-called ‘relationship’ with that idiot Winchester.”

“I have no idea what you are implying.” Cas stops to wash his hands and glances at the mirror when Roman steps behind him.

“I mean that it’s fake. Everyone’s been talking about it.”

“Have they, now? Interesting that people we haven’t seen in ten years would presume to know anything about our lives. Excuse me, Dick.” Cas nudges the man out of his way as he leaves the bathroom, staying as calm as he can. He was worried this might happen, and he has no idea how it did. Well, he may have _one_ idea, and she’s currently draped over Dean. Cas thinks back to the high school rumor mill. _Some people never change_ , Cas muses as he waits for drinks. Around him, people are giving him assessing looks, as if they’re puzzling something out. He ignores them.

Gathering the two bottles of cheap beer, Cas heads back toward the table. He’s still getting looks – some of sympathy, others of disgust, others just curious. He’s going to confront Lisa for sure, but he needs to get her away from Dean first. He doesn’t need any attention drawn to him. He places his beer down at his spot, then moves around behind Dean and nudges his arm until he sees it in his peripheral vision and takes it with a grateful smile. Cas can see that Dean is feeling drained and Cas kisses his temple.

“Lisa, I would love to catch up with you about something. Mind stepping over to somewhere quieter?” Cas says. She looks up suspiciously but agrees and follows him to an area near an air conditioning vent, where it’s too chilly for others to gather for long but where they’re still easily seen. Cas isn’t taking any chances on any allegations she could make. He stops and turns on her.

“So, tell me about the rumor you started,” he commands, steely-eyed.

“What rumor?” she says as she crosses her arms.

“That’s what I’m asking. Something about my relationship with Dean being fake, perhaps?”

“Oh, that. Well, I did mention something Dean told me to a few of my close friends, but it’s not a rumor.”

“Elaborate.”

“Weeeellll,” she says in a dangerous tone, “you know Dean still has it bad for me, don’t you?”

“I wasn’t aware of that.”

She chuckles darkly. “Oh, Casteel, you don’t have to play dumb with me. We both know what you’re doing, and we both know what Dean really wants. See, the thing is, I had him first. I _was_ his first. I’ve gotten to see Dean at his _most ecstatic_.”

“Mmmhmm,” Cas hums, bored with her dramatics.

“And when we saw each other again, well… you know he came to my apartment, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“But I bet he didn’t say why.”

“He said it was because you dragged him.”

“I did… I dragged him upstairs to my apartment because if I didn’t he would’ve taken me right there in the studio.”

Cas frowns. “I’m sorry?”

“Oh, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other after being apart for so long. He’s an animal. We pleasured each other in ways you’ve only dreamed of.”

“He told me he saw the studio and your living room.”

“Yes,” she smiles, “he took me right in the living room. He couldn’t wait any longer. Afterward, he told me he was tired of you, that he just feels indebted to you for the help you gave him in high school and he didn’t have the heart to leave. He feels trapped, you know. You took him away the day after he graduated and he didn’t want to tell you no. He’s too nice a guy and he felt bad for you.”

“Tired of me? Trapped?” Cas repeats in a hoarse whisper. “He wouldn’t say that.”

“Sorry, but he did,” she shrugs and attempts to look sympathetic. “We’ve been talking ever since, and I told a few friends about it. I guess the word got out.”

Cas cannot believe what he’s hearing from her mouth. He begins to breathe heavily and places a hand over his eyes as he turns his head down.

“We love each other. It’s painful now, but probably better that you know,” Lisa says gently and puts a hand on his arm. Cas can’t take it anymore. His body shakes and he… laughs out loud.

“Wow!” he says, eyes shiny with laughter, happy that his acting skills were better than he thought. “You expect me to buy that bullshit? To believe you over Dean, the man I’ve loved for years? Come on!” He stops laughing and glares at her, pointing an accusing finger in her direction. “And what’s worse is that you make him sound like a cheater. You’ve besmirched _his_ reputation. That is unforgivable.” He shakes his head and starts walking through the people on the dance floor toward their table. She grabs his arm and turns him around.

“You’re both pathetic,” she snarls. “You’re a lovesick puppy, and he’s nothing without me!”

“He is everything,” Cas growls as he rips his arm out of her grasp. “Everything.”

“He’s mine!” she shouts desperately. “You don’t love him like I do! You can’t! He’s mine!”

Castiel has had enough – enough staring, enough rumors, enough badly-behaved people, enough veiled truths.

“No! He is _his own_!” Castiel shouts back, not caring about the crowd beginning to form. “He is not defined by you or anyone else. Let me tell you something, Lisa. In fact, let me tell _everyone_ something. Listen up, all of you, because I’m saying it once!” Castiel glances at the confused DJ and runs a finger across his throat. The DJ shuts off the music.

He looks around and spots Roman and Aaron near Lisa. He doesn’t see Dean, but Dean sees him as he approaches to his right. "You’ve all heard a lot of rumors, and I had hoped those would be a thing of the past, lost to the foolishness of adolescence. I have been disappointed. So let me tell you a few truths.

“The first truth is that Dean Winchester is a star, a celestial fire in a human body, a being that burns so brightly with kindness and talent and faith in humanity that he blinds you. Some of you are the hydrogen that fuels him, and you burn brilliantly together. But some of you resent his brilliance and seek to extinguish it with your denials and your lies and your hate and your selfishness. It doesn’t matter how much you try, though, because his fire transcends you; it has existed long before you and will exist long after.

“The second truth is that, though I can explain the unexplainable, the complex, the unfathomable, things of such a scale and magnitude that they are rarely even dreamed of by the billions of people inhabiting this Earth, I cannot explain the love I feel for Dean Winchester, because it defies explanation. Words are inadequate and only poets and artists come close, with their sonnets and colors. But I am not a poet. I am a man of science, of my senses, of the tangible, and I require evidence. The evidence I offer you is my tingling skin in the wake of his touch, the heightened rate of my heartbeat when he says my name, the dopamine rolling like waves in my brain when I am with him. Yet even this pithy evidence is inadequate to explain this intangibility that I know exists and for once I don't wish to have evidence. I don't need to prove the hypothesis. I _know_ it’s true. I only wish to experience this love for him with faith and hope and all the things that humans cling to not because they have or do not have evidence, but because these things feel right. Science reminds us how insignificant we are. But when I am with him, I feel significant, important, worthy. I feel like I have made a place in this universe because I love him. That is my truth.

"So take the short time you have on this planet and don't use it for bitterness or jealousy or denial or hate. Don't live in the past; it is gone. Find something that makes you feel significant. Find someone who finally makes you understand a sonnet."

He looks at the people around him – his best friend’s classmates – and pauses.

"And the third truth is if you fuck with him, you fuck with me, and you don't want to fuck with either one of us."

Castiel finally stops for breath, panting wildly. He juts his chin defiantly at the ones who had hurt Dean the most. With a glare, he turns on his heel and walks swiftly out of the function hall, streamers fluttering as the door slams behind him. He knows Dean can take care of himself, and he isn’t sure how Dean will react after such a dramatic scene. He runs, grateful for shoes with some tread on them as he crosses the street and the sports fields and traverses their hill behind the school. When he’s in the clear, Cas strips off his jacket, lays on the ground and closes his eyes, breathless and shaking.

“Thought you weren’t a poet?” a familiar baritone asks many minutes later. Cas feels a bottle of water settle between his ankles. He sits up and drinks half the bottle in a few long gulps. He wraps his arms around his knees and looks at the horizon.

  
“I’m not. Nothing rhymed in that entire speech.”

“Sounded pretty poetic to me. Lots of symbolism. Very pretty.”

“Yes, well, perhaps I learned something in that class after all.”

“Maybe so. Can I sit down?” Dean asks as he sits next to Cas.

“I guess you answered your own question,” Cas remarks wryly.

“I was afraid you’d say no,” Dean says through a small, breathy huff. Cas smiles. That possibility is very unlikely and they both know it, but he’s pleased Dean asks anyway. Sort of asks.

After a few minutes of silence, Dean states, “You haven’t lied to me this entire week.” Cas nods. “You haven’t lied to me at all. You’ve avoided, you’ve refused to answer, you’ve chosen your words, but you’ve never lied outright. In our entire relationship.” He nods again. “But I never asked you the right questions, did I?” Cas licks his lips and worries his lower lip with his teeth, but says nothing.

“So you missed my little ‘fuck you’ to everyone,” Dean says. If Cas is startled by the sudden topic change, he doesn’t show it.

“I am truly sorry I missed that,” he smirks as he looks at Dean.

“Yeah, felt good. I made Lisa and Aaron confess to their lies, then I told all the bigoted assholes to fuck off and that I was going to find my fiancé and if they had anything else to say they could tell it to my ass.” Cas’ laugh rings in the evening air and Dean wishes he could fold it up and wear it like a blanket when he’s sad.

“Hey,” Dean says as he touches Cas’ arm. “You see anyone around, Cas?”

Cas looks around, even though he’s quite certain they’re alone. “No, I don’t.”

“So, we don’t have to pretend anything up here, right? We can just be ourselves?”

“Correct,” Cas responds, looking out at the sky once again.

“Good,” Dean says. He turns Cas’ face toward him, then parts his lips and surges forward to capture him in what Dean considers their first real kiss. Like the summer air, it’s heady and sultry and blistering. Their mouths merge urgently into each other, assisted by their hands on each other’s faces and in each other’s hair, tugging and smoothing.

“Cas,” Dean says when they stop for air, “I love you. I’m in love with you. I have been for years. Are you in love with me, Cas? Is that the right question?”

Cas’ face is washed in relief and a golden light that Dean wants to see over and over again. “Yes, Dean. Yes, I’m in love with you. Every time I’ve told you I love you, I wanted to tell you. I just…”

“I know,” Dean whispers before pulling him in again.

After a few minutes of drinking each other in, they part and gasp for air, still hanging on to each other like a child holds a kite – loose enough so it can be free, but tight enough to tether themselves to each other securely.  
“Wait. You haven’t lied to me,” Dean repeats cautiously after they stare into each other’s faces for a while, each making sure the other doesn’t disappear.

“No.”

“Except for the proposal.”

“No.”

Dean licks his lips, nervous to hope. “You didn’t lie?”

“I didn’t lie.”

Dean drops his hands to Cas’ waist. “You… want to…”

Cas raises his hands to Dean’s face and holds it so tenderly, Dean feels like he might cry. “Dean Robert Winchester, I’ve spent nearly half my life with you. May I spend the rest of my life with you as your husband?”

He can’t help the trembling that takes over his body or the tears that, yes, are now falling. “Cas… you…”

“Dean.” He leaves a hand on Dean’s face and holds Dean’s left hand in the other. “I told you, I planned this for years. I said these words over and over in my mind, sometimes when we were in the same room. I’d be watching you watch TV or cook dinner and I’d say them to you.”

“You plan this too?” Dean asks, thumbing the ring on his finger.

“Yes,” Cas says.

“I want to marry you, Cas,” Dean whispers even though they’re alone.

“Awesome,” Cas says, eyes sparkling in the waning summer light, and Dean barks a laugh before Castiel swallows it in a kiss. When they part once again, Dean holds Cas’ eyes in his own and recites:

 _I didn’t know what love felt like_  
_until he filled my heart_  
_with pieces of himself._  
_I’ve never known such fullness,_  
_an ocean of feelings overflowing_  
_into the emptiest parts of me._

“Dean, that’s…”

“Poetry, yeah. Not mine, but… I like it sometimes.”

Cas kisses him again, sitting in his lap and straddling his waist until every inch of them touches, their bodies trying to make up for lost opportunities.

“We should go,” Dean says desperately into Cas’ mouth. He nods vigorously and they stand, dusting themselves of dried grass and dirt. Cas takes Dean’s hand in his and they cannot stop smiling. They make their way across the street to the hotel parking lot and their car, pausing to kiss every so often now that they can. Dean presses Cas against the car and licks into his mouth, Cas knotting their tongues with equal fervor. “You know, there’s a hotel right here,” Dean suggests with a growl, and Cas hums his approval as he lures his mouth back to his.

“There you are, boys!” a woman calls out. “We were wonderin’ where you disappeared to!” They turn their heads to see the source of the voice approaching them.

“Eh, you know, just making out with my fiancé in the parking lot,” Dean says with jovial casualness, squeezing Cas’ hand and smiling giddily at the words that are now true.

“That’s _so_ high school,” Pam jokes. “Hey, a bunch of us are blowin’ this Popsicle stand and going to the Roadhouse. Come with us!”

Dean glances at Cas, looking flushed and mussed and perfect, and swallows hard. “Uh, we were just gonna get out of here, actually…”

“You can’t go yet! Benny, Tessa and Garth and their spouses are going, and Donna and Ash and me, and you haven’t even seen Alicia and Max. Come on, we’ve barely gotten to see you! You can kiss your fiancé later. Come with us!”

“Uh, well…”

“Dean,” Cas says gently, touching his chest near his heart, “we came all this way for you to see your friends. Our friends. You and I have the rest of our lives together.” Dean searches Cas’ face and finds hope, love, and the promise of a future – tonight, tomorrow, forever. He smiles widely.

“Yeah we do,” he agrees, kissing his fiancé one more time before they agree to meet everyone at the Roadhouse.

His high school reunion turns out to be the best reunion Dean could’ve imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poem: “What Love Feels Like” by Christy Ann Martine www.facebook.com/christyannmartine


	16. Chapter 16

Dean is surprised to find himself waking up on Cas’ chest before he remembers, and he sends up a silent prayer of thanks to whoever’s listening. He turns his head up and kisses Cas’ jaw until his best friend – his _fiancé_ – wakes with a lazy grin. “Mornin’, Sunshine.”

“Good morning, my love,” Cas responds in the smoky rumble of his barely-awake voice. Although he hopes Cas never stops calling him Rigel, he _really_ loves the new endearment.

Cas rolls on his side and plants gentle kisses behind Dean’s ear, down his neck, and around his collarbone. He surreptitiously pinches himself on the leg to make sure he isn’t dreaming this, because he’s dreamed it so many times, then smiles to himself for doing something so cliché and silly. Cas climbs atop Dean so he can reach his other side and reverse his ministrations – around the collarbone, up his neck, behind his ear. Dean moans softly and a shudder makes his body press into Dean in response, which only makes the man moan louder.  It’s an intoxicating feedback loop.

“Hmm, you are incredible,” Cas purrs into Dean’s skin as his mouth works up and down Dean’s body. “I truly cannot believe I get to spend the rest of my life with you.” He rubs his hands across the planes of Dean’s body, and they both hum in contentment and desire. After several minutes of indulgence, Dean trembles with excitement and he pushes up onto his elbows, gazing at Cas drowsily.

“Your turn,” Dean murmurs as he pulls Cas into a heated kiss and flips their positions. He tastes the morning heat of Cas’ sun-kissed skin from the top of his head to the tips of his toes and back again, stopping when a spot seems particularly pleasurable to one of them (he stops often, marveling at Cas’ sensitivity). “I can’t believe this is real,” Dean whispers into Cas’ mouth, their emotional arousal rising as the friction they’re creating between their bodies heightens their physical arousal, another delicious feedback loop that draws them closer to the edge.

They take their time, the minutes ticking by lazily as the early morning hour keeps their movements slow and deliberate. It’s Sunday, a quiet, worshipful day, and the house is silent as the rest of the family sleeps on while Dean and Cas consummate a love twelve years in the making. Together, as with most things they do, the men release both physically and emotionally, the intensity of one release spurring on the intensity of the other until they are only beings of pulsing energy made stronger and brighter in their fusion as the two become one. They absorb each other’s moans and praise and tears to keep only for themselves before collapsing into one another, breathless sobs the only sound in the room.

“Cas,” Dean eventually rasps in a broken whisper. He curls into Cas’ embrace.

“Dean,” Cas answers, low and filled with awe.

“Cas,” Dean says again after several minutes, when he feels integrated with his body once again. “Love you. I love you.”

“I love you.” Cas kisses his forehead, damp with sweat. “That was… wow.”

“Wow, huh? Guess you’re not a poet after all.” Dean smiles and smooths Cas’ hair from his face.

“All proper love poems should have ‘wow’ in them. If they’re talking about our kind of love, anyway,” Cas says softly, almost shyly.

“Huh. You know, I think you’re right.” He caresses Cas’ swollen lips, and they indulge in languid kisses for a while.

“Of all the times I pictured us having sex…” Dean starts.

“All the times? How many are we talking?” Cas teases.

“Many, _many_ times,” Dean grins cheekily before continuing, “I never imagined it would be like that. The physical stuff I got right, but the emotional stuff…”

“I know,” Cas says, and he does. He leers at Dean and murmurs in his ear, “Imagine what it’ll be like when we get home, when we have our own bed and an empty house.”

“I might have to take the rest of the week off.” The men laugh quietly so they don’t wake the others in the house. “I can’t wait, Cas. I can’t wait to have everything with you.”

Cas knows he means more than just sex. “Me too, Dean,” he breathes as he tugs him to his lips once again.

It’s still early, but eventually the couple rolls out of bed and prepares for their last morning at Mary’s. They talk as they collect their laundry and pack their bags, take showers and eat a quick bite. They send out a group text to invite a few people to lunch and strip the bed, throwing the sheets in the washing machine. They run a few errands – gas station, ATM, and Target to stock up on ice, headache medicine, beef jerky, lube, and granola (“You and your fuckin’ granola, Cas”) – and take a little drive around town before heading back to the house to pack the Impala. Cas switches the sheets to the dryer while Dean writes a note and copies it a few times.

At lunch, Cas and Dean seem especially buoyant and affectionate. Mary, Bobby, Steven and Anne, and Sam and Sarah all seem to notice, and their suspicions about the couple are confirmed when Sarah asks about the reunion and they recount it all in gory and fabulous detail. Cas is amused to hear it from Dean’s point of view, and Dean’s face grows hotter when Cas talks about Dean’s strength and courage and how proud he is of him. They don’t mention the engagement until the bills come to the table. As per the arrangement Dean made with their server when he excused himself from the table, bills are given face-down to each individual at the table except Dean and Cas. They watch and wait as each person reads the note stapled to their blank bills. Mary gets it first.

“Oh my God! Boys!” she yells, loud enough so nearly everyone in the restaurant turns their heads to see what’s happening. Anne stands right up with her and they rush to their boys, hugging them and tearing up as they cling to the papers in their hands. Sarah squeals and waits her turn, Bobby grunts and smiles thoughtfully, Steven closes his eyes and says a silent thank you to the universe, and Sam laughs and wraps his large arms around them both from behind their chairs and knocks their three heads together in congratulations.

The notes read:  
_In love we are, in love we’ll be_  
_A love that’s fit for poetry_  
_We are not poets, but we ask today_  
_For you to join us on our special day._  
_Please join us on Friday, May 25 as we pledge our lives to each other in marriage. Time and location to be determined. Love, Dean and Cas_

“That’s a terrible poem, Rigel,” Cas teases when the commotion has settled and the well-wishers have wandered back to their seats. “It didn’t even have ‘wow’ in it.”

“Yes, but it rhymes,” Dean counters, and Cas laughs against his lips as he kisses him, long and sweet, full of the unspoken pledges they’ve already made to each other.


	17. Chapter 17

Epilogue 

_Ten Years Later_

Cas guides the Cirrus SR-22 onto the runway at Celestial Aviation with practiced ease. After their initial flying lesson ten years ago, Cas and Dean were both bitten by the flying bug and resumed lessons as soon as they returned home to California. Now, both of them licensed as private pilots, they take the opportunity to fly when they can.

“A beautiful day, a hot pilot… what more can I ask for?” Dean says, taking off his headphones and leaning in for a kiss.

“Hey, don’t forget me!” a little voice chirps.

“Oh, you’re here? I didn’t even see you!” Dean teases.

“Daddy! You’re a sillyhead!”

“He’s always been a sillyhead, he can’t help it,” Cas smiles, pulling Dean in for the kiss their daughter interrupted.

“Eww! Stop kissing! You guys are always kissing!”

“Then we’ll have to kiss _you_ instead!” Dean and Cas lean into the back and pepper their daughter with loud kisses on her face. She giggles and squirms.

“You guys are so _immature_ ,” she says, hands on her hips. She’s been using her new word all week, usually in reference to her fathers.

They clatter out of the plane and grab their luggage as Gabe runs out to greet them.

“Hey, Sugar Pop!” Gabe shouts as he swings the girl in his arms. “I’ve got a ton of good stuff for ya!”

“Kit-Kats?” she asks with wide eyes.

“King Size Kit-Kats,” he nods seriously, and she claps her hands and wraps her tiny arms around his neck.

“We’re leaving her with you if you sugar her up!” Dean calls after him.

They walk into the office to grab keys for their rental and say hello to Michael.

“My word, Rory’s getting so big,” Michael observes as they watch her show off her latest gymnastics tricks for Gabe.

“She is,” Cas agrees, adoration shining in his eyes as he looks at his 6-year-old.

“Yours must be too, eh?” Dean asks, and Michael shows them pictures of the twins, now ten years old and into sports like Michael was. Dean and Michael trade a few more pictures and stories of their kids’ antics.

“We need to get going,” Cas says eventually, and calls, “Rory! Time to go!” She whines about leaving and he drops an octave into his calm, authoritative dad voice, “Miss Aurora. It is time to leave. Say goodbye to Gabe and Michael. Daddy and I have someplace to be and Grammy is waiting for you.” He turns to Dean, who is leaning back on the receptionist desk and eyeing him up and down. “I’ll boss you around later,” he purrs seductively in his husband’s ear, and Dean throws his head back and laughs.

“What’s so funny? I wanna know too!” Rory demands, and Cas picks her up and kisses her rosy cheek.

“I was telling him a grown-up joke, but I’ll tell you a kid joke,” Cas says, and he wanders off and makes something up as Dean watches his little family. He turns and shakes Michael’s hand, then hurries to catch up.

Grammy showers Rory with affection and takes her to her art room, now located in an addition she had built a few years ago, to play with some new paints she bought just for her. The fathers drop her luggage in the former art room, now a kids’ guest room, and drop their own luggage in Dean’s childhood bedroom, their now very-adult bedroom. They take advantage of the few minutes of alone time and make out as they strip for their shower. Knowing they can’t finish anything here in case a little visitor decides to pop in, they move to the bathroom, lock the door, and take advantage of the child-free atmosphere, the noise of the exhaust fan, the water sluicing down their bodies, and the fact that the art room is across the house.

  
Freshly showered and sated, Cas and Dean dress in jeans and button-down shirts and trudge downstairs. They peek in on Rory and Mary, who are covered in paint and smiling broadly. After kisses to the tops of their heads, the men drive their rental down to Harvelle’s Roadhouse.

“Hey!” calls the chorus of friends: Garth and Bess, Pam, Ash, Tessa, Alicia and Donna, Max and his girlfriend Amber, and Benny and Andrea. Since the first reunion ten years ago, they’ve made it a point to get together once a year to catch up and spend time together. The crew talks animatedly about their jobs, old and new romances, kids, and sports and politics.

“Isn’t it funny that our 20 year reunion is going on just a few miles away and we’re over here having a better time than they ever dreamed?” Pam says, and the group laughs.

“You should crash it,” Cas says casually. The group stops and stares at him, considering whether he’s being serious.

“We should,” Dean agrees, knowing his husband is completely serious, and his mouth turns up in a devilish grin. He turns to Cas, who wiggles his eyebrows at him, and Dean squeezes his hand.

Pam looks around the table, her wild hair cascading around her. “Let’s do it. Who’s in?” She holds up her drink, and everyone clinks glasses.

The Rebel Posse, as they jokingly decide to call themselves, bypasses the registration table (where Becky is nowhere in sight) and struts into the function room together, a force that is immediately noticed by everyone in the room. At first they simply look around, taking in the room and deciding what to do. To their surprise, a few people start clapping, and soon the room is filled with applause. Old classmates approach Dean, reminiscing about the ten year reunion and asking him how he is. For a while Dean is bewildered as different classmates come to him and seem to take a genuine interest in him, in his family, in his work. They tell him about their lives and Dean hears a lot about loss, struggles, and the trivialities of daily life that they all share. Cas listens quietly and when Dean catches his eye, Cas nods and winks and Dean gets it. These people have finally caught up. They’ve finally matured enough to realize that everyone’s running the same race and it doesn’t make much sense to hang on to the past and to antiquated ideas. Life is too complicated for that; some of them just didn’t know it until they actually started living it.

Not quite as young as they used to be and having seen all the people they really wanted to see already, Dean and Cas say their goodbyes and head toward their car.

“Let’s go to our spot first,” Dean suggests, and Castiel takes his hand and swings their arms as they walk across the street toward the school.

“Well, fuck,” Dean mutters as they see their special place has been leveled to make additional parking.

“I suppose everything changes eventually,” Cas muses after a while.

“Not everything, Dr. Winchester-Novak,” Dean smiles as he guides his husband close for a deep kiss. “Not my love for you.”

“Even love changes, Dr. Winchester-Novak,” Cas kisses him again, “like my love for you, for instance.”

Dean furrows his brow. “How so?”

“Well, it’s stronger,” he kisses him, “deeper,” another kiss, “richer,” another kiss, “and more complex than I ever thought possible,” he finishes with a fiery kiss that takes Dean’s breath away.

“Sounds like poetry, Cas,” Dean smiles as his green eyes lock into Cas’.

“No. Just the truth,” Cas answers, and he embraces his husband before they turn around and walk back to the car, to their family, to their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading my little story! <3


End file.
